Maybe Today
by The BatThing
Summary: Chapter Eight Uploaded. Eleven year old Dick Grayson encounters a low in his life when things take a sudden fall. But when things seem impossible to bear, a new outlook is earned, one of 'maybe today'. WARNING, disturbing but no details written in story.
1. Mr Henry Ganthers

**Warning: **WARNING! WARNING! This isn't a fiction that is going to be totally clean. I don't intend to write anything into detail (anything bad), but it will be obvious what happens. _Please_ don't read if you don't think you can, please.

**Author's Note: **Yeah, I shouldn't be starting a new fanfiction – you can all shot me for my bad habit of biting off more than I can chew. I _do_ plan to finish the ones I have out, believe it or not! I've just been getting a strong urge to write this one. I apologize for my bad behavior. My fictions have been harboring on boring and repetitive lately, and this is something fresh, and somewhat pre-thought out. I need that.

"And I'm as brave as you. And I'm as afraid as you. And I'm as brave as you. And I'm as afraid as you are too."

_Carbon Leaf _Lonesome Pine

_**Maybe Today**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter One: **_Mr. Henry Ganthers_

"_No." Dick sobbed, standing atop his bed, trembling, seemingly without end. His fists were clenched tightly together, but he didn't notice – a reflex. All he could do was stand there and be seen, and he wanted to. He wanted Bruce to know, to admit it. "I'm not going to talk to anyone! I have an idea! Why don't **you** talk to her! You can tell her how much you hate me! A-and how you wish I was like everyone else! You can tell her that I cry l-like a baby."_

_Bruce simply stared, gapping in utter shock at the results of just a simple request. Deep down he felt he should have been prepared for something like this – but he wasn't. He wasn't ready to see something like this. It scared him._

_It hurt. _

"_You can tell her I'm dumb! That my teacher wanted me, because I'm dumb enough to not see through their intentions! **I** go with them, and **I** let them touch me! I hardly pu-put up a fight. And if I do, you can jus-just hit me and make me stop. STOP IT!"_

_The billionaire didn't realize he was moving, but he found himself before the boy, looking up at him and simply listening to what was being said. There was nothing more he could do, as worthless as he was, than just listen. "Dick."_

"_You can tell h-h-her that you're ashamed! That I'm DIRTY! That he did things TO ME! I didn't want him to though." A sob as his head dropped down to his chest. "I didn't want him to!"_

**Two Months Earlier: **

Dick Grayson let out a shrill laugh, fumbling across the gym floor of his school. Even if it had been an awkward catch, he _had_ gotten the ball – and that meant his team won. Sporting a confident smile, Dick couldn't help but feel a bit on the proud side. _He_ was the reason his team won. He was _always_ the reason. After all, when you're trained by the Batman, you tend to be good at this sort of thing. Dropping the ball Dick accepted the high fives a few classmates offered, he gave a stunning smile to the girls, and maybe flashed a little one at the losing side.

After all, it wasn't there fault he hadn't been on their team.

"Great one, Dick!" A blonde girl gasped, clenching her hands together and swaying a bit. It was an eleven-year-old crush, and she wasn't sure what to do about it other then make sure to complement her classmate at every moment possible. "You're the best!"

"Anyone coulda' done it!" Dick brushed past as the whistle blew, and followed the mass of boys to the locker room, laughing about nothing, just happy in general. Life was good, they had won the dodge ball game – and when you're eleven, not much else matters.

"I wish we could just stay in gym all day." Greg Ruthan whined as he pulled off his shoes and tossed them in the small gym locker. He gave Dick a look that harbored on serious. "We've got math next – and I didn't do the homework."

The eleven-year-old knew where this was going, and he didn't let it bother him. Still in good spirits from his win, he shrugged his shoulders. "You can copy mine. Just don't get caught – ok?"

A rare treat to copy Dick Grayson's homework, Greg nodded with great vigor, smiling all the more. "You were awesome at the game, like _usual_."

"Nah, it wasn't anything big."

"I guess when you're from a circus, well, then you're naturally good at that sort of stuff, huh? I wish _my_ parents were acrobats. Then I'd win all the games."

Haden Johnson, pulling his shirt over his head, scoffed at the wish spoken aloud. Never one to think before speaking, he said what was on his mind. "Even if your parents were acrobats, you'd still suck. You can't do _anything_ right."

"He's good at eating!" Another boy called out, causing a few boys to laugh.

"At _least_ I'm good at _something_." Greg answered, smiling despite the fact. He looked at Dick and nodded, as if in secret. "I'll get the homework before class, and copy it while he answers questions. I'll be fast, and _don't worry_, he won't catch me."

"Ok."

"Did you guys get the answers?" Haden questioned, turning around and looking at the other two boys. He took in a deep breath and glanced around the room. "Mr. Ganthers has a pop quiz today. Darcy went in early for a help session, and Mr. Ganthers left for a few minutes. While he was gone, Darc saw the answers on his desk and stuff. He copied them down and everything! … _I_ _have_ _them_."

Dick groaned – why was it that Mr. Ganthers always gave pop quizzes over the _hardest_ section? It was impossible to get a good grade in that class! A definite downside to going to a private school was the fact that it seemed twice as hard as a normal one at times. The eleven year old bowed his head, knowing perfectly well that he had trouble enough with the homework – there was no way he'd do well on any quiz today. "Mr. Ganthers' so mean."

Moving towards Haden, Greg put a hand to his mouth, whispering. "Will you give us the answers? His quizzes _are _multiple choice! We could memorize them real quick! _Please_, Haden – please?!"

At this, Dick lifted his head, realizing that he might have a way out of a poor score. He had never been _huge_ on cheating, but when it came to Mr. Ganthers' class, it was almost a necessity. He turned his blue eyes on Haden, waiting to see what the answer would be. To Dick's surprise, the boy was staring at him with a smirk.

"I'll give them to you, only if you're on _my_ team next time, ok Dick?"

"Ok!"

* * *

"A, E, C, G, A, A, D, C, A, F, A, C, G, E, B, B, B, B, F." Dick quoted under his breath, reading off the letters on a small, torn of edge of paper. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, tuning out Mr. Ganthers, and trying his best to memorize the order before the quiz was distributed. It was question time, and that meant that he'd have at least ten minutes to memorize the order. It wasn't _that_ hard.

Beside him, Greg was furiously copying down his homework as clandestinely as possible. His arm covered half of the sheet, blocking it from anyone's view. Though, it was as obvious as day that he was working on _something_. Mr. Ganthers seemed to notice himself, and occasionally glanced in the boy's direction. "Mr. Ruthan, if you didn't finish your homework at home, then don't finish it here. You had ample time to work on it. I gave you a whole day."

Dick's head shot up in worry, wondering if the teacher would come over to Greg's desk. _Please, oh please, oh please._ He glanced over at his overweight friend, expecting to see Greg attempting to hide the evidence.

"Yes, sir." Greg said, offering a small, shy smile and putting his pencil down. He waited until the teacher returned to answering a question to look at Dick. Giving an exasperated look he sighed, and turned his attention back up front, showing that he was no longer working on the homework.

"Alright, turn in your assignments, complete or not, and put away everything but your pencil. Today we have a pop quiz." A small, scattered groan went through the room – smaller than usual, a sign that more than just Dick, Darcy, Haden, and Greg had gotten the answers.

Greg passed his and Dick's paper up towards the front of the class, sparing obviously handing Dick back the homework. Once done, he frowned at his friend and began to whisper. "_I didn't get half of it done!_"

"_Half is better than nothing, right_?"

The boy shrugged.

"_Didja' at least learn the answers_?" Haden leaned forward, sitting behind Dick, and peered at Greg. "_That should make up for something_."

"_I think I did_."

"ENOUGH talking, Mr. Grayson, Mr. Ruthan, and Mr. Johnson." And the teacher began to pass out the quizzes, eyeing the three carefully. It was clear he didn't enjoy his job, and it was clear he didn't have a way with children – but for some reason he worked at the school – probably because it was one of the better paying positions he could get with his degree. "No cheating, or your tests gets thrown away and you _will_ receive a zero and a one-way ticket to the office. Is that understood?"

A mummer went up.

"Good, you may begin."

Dick stared down at the problems on the paper and gave a groan. There was no way he'd be able to get an A on this without cheating, he just _knew_ it. Putting his good intentions aside, he scribbled down the code of letters on the side of his paper in light penciling. _There_. Now he could try the problem and then put the right answer – that way he wouldn't be completely and totally cheating. That way he wouldn't feel _too_ bad.

As the quiz wore on the boy began to realize just how much he didn't know. The first problem he had thought he had at least gotten right, but he _hadn't_. The rest were the same – and he didn't get any single answer to match up. Admitting defeat, he filled in the circles in the order he had been told and snorted, erasing the original list he had made to start out with. Well, he'd have to study this over tonight. After all, it wasn't like he'd get the answers handed to him on a silver platter every time.

Even though it was nice.

* * *

When Dick got home that afternoon, studying was put aside, homework was put aside – everything was put on hold as he raced outside to have time for himself. Bruce would be home around six or so, meaning that Dick would have only an hour before he had to go back in to finish school work and work in a little bit of time training.

Oh well, an hour was better than nothing.

He spent his hour wisely, lulling about for a few minutes at the old playground he had found a few years back in Wayne Manor's small clutter of woods. It consisted of only a swing set, a slide, and a jungle gym – and it was rusted with time, but that didn't stop Dick from finding enjoyment there. It wasn't that he could do anything special, but it was his secret place. For all he knew, Bruce and Alfred didn't know of it, and by the looks of it, nobody ever came out there. He ate the apple the old butler had provided him atop the monkey bars and thought about his day.

He thought about the dodge ball game, and how Haden had wanted him to be on _his_ team next time. _Everyone_ wanted Dick to be on their team. It was a good feeling, and perhaps the boy was a bit full of himself, but he couldn't help it. He enjoyed everyone thinking he was something special. Complements were more than nice to receive, especially considering Bruce wasn't very quick to hand them out himself, not without Dick fishing for them.

Well, he'd win the next game. Dick didn't think on the possibility of not winning it. That _wasn't_ a possibility.

Scaling down the bars, Dick landed on his feet with a huff. And then, presenting his best smile, he raced off, hoping to find something interesting in the many acres of the Wayne Estate. There was _always_ _something_ to uncover.

The young, raven-haired gypsy spent a bit more then his allotted hour, but soon enough worked up the self discipline to force himself back towards the house. He knew that his homework was all but waiting, as was Alfred. And the last thing he wanted was to get scolded. Making his way up the hill, out of the woods and towards the house, Dick saw Bruce's car pulling down the lane. He offered a confused look and quickened his pace, curious as to the reason for his guardian's early arrival. Coming towards the garage a few moments later, Dick found Bruce walking up towards the house.

"You're home early, d'ja get bored of work or something?"

The wealthy bachelor spared a glance and gave a fake and almost sarcastic smile. "Or something – interesting I run into _you_ out here."

"How's that interesting? I live here, don't I?" Dick fell into step with Bruce, as they ascended the stairs towards the huge house.

Bruce ignored his words, and switched his briefcase into his other hand, looking up towards the building. "Alfred called me, said a teacher of yours isn't very pleased with you concerning a series of bad judgment today, and possibly before today."

There wasn't any way Mr. Ganther's could have found out about Dick cheating! The boy felt his stomach flip flop as he ran through any mistakes he might have made to give himself away. He _had _erased the answers – he had torn up the paper Haden had given him – that meant someone had to have ratted him out! That was the only way. "Wh-what teacher?"

"Take a guess, Dick. I think you might have an idea."

Dick knew better than to fall into any traps. He kept his mouth shut, not willing to give himself away.

"Fine, seeing as you've gone mute, I'll tell you. Your math, teacher, Mr. Ganthers – ring any bells?" The two had come to the front door, but neither entered. They stood, facing each other.

Once more, Dick opted silence as the best route.

"Dick?"

"Well, I dunno." He lied.

"You let a classmate copy your homework_ and_ you cheated on a quiz. How does that help to jog your memory?"

Swaying casually, Dick lifted his shoulders. He was a bit stunned that he had been caught in the wrong. How did Mr. Ganther's find him out?! That's what _he'd_ like to know. Still a bit uncertain, Dick kept his gaze away from Bruce's. "I don't know."

Now it was Bruce's turn to be silent, but not in the same way. His silence was on the verge of trouble – meaning Dick had better start talking soon.

"I was _only_ trying to help Greg out s'all. He didn't get the homework done. I just wanted to help him." The eleven-year-old lifted his head and offered an innocent look. "He didn't even copy it all, just half."

"I didn't realize you liked taking the easy way out of your troubles. I was under the impression that you worked hard." Bruce still wasn't moving, even if it sounded like he was making a final statement. It was simply a question.

"I do work hard! I … Mr. Ganthers give _really_ hard quizzes, Bruce. He's a really bad teacher, he hates his job, he _hates us_ – it's not fair that he can be so hard. I do _all_ the homework and I _ask_ questions, but I still get only a B! That's not fair."

"Oh, but cheating to get a grade you didn't earn – that's fair?"

"…No."

Bruce sighed, running a hand across his face and turning to look down the lane. The sky was grey, it's usual color. Spring was right around the corner – and it was pleasant to know warm weather was coming, but the grey sky did little to support the theory. "Alfred says Mr. Ganthers gives help sessions half an hour before school starts, and then he has an after school session for an hour. I don't remember you ever going to one of those."

"…" Dick would rather die then go to more school with _Mr. Ganthers_. The man seemed so ill tempered, so bitter all the time so … sad. He looked at his guardian with a pained expression, but knew better then to voice his opinion on the matter.

"I bet your wondering how you got caught, aren't you?"

"Umm." _YES_. Slowly zipping and unzipping his jacket, Dick shrugged casually, not wanting to seem over eager.

"You and your friends got the wrong answers for the quiz. Whoever told you those were right - lied to you. So, when your teacher saw that four of five of you put down the same wrong answers, he figured it out. They were the answers to his other classes quiz. Then, after seeing you had cheated on your quiz, he went through all five of your homeworks, and saw that you and another boy had the same answers and work." Bruce pushed open the doors and started to go inside. He paused and gave his head a simple shake. "I can't say I'm pleased with this, Dick – I know you can do better. And I know you don't have to cheat to get good grades."

"…"

"I'd like you to start going to the before _and_ after-school help sessions, seeing as you admit that the class is a bit on the tough side. I know you're a bright kid, I know you can conquer this one _without_ cheating."

Dick nodded ever so slightly, not really agreeing, and nowhere near happy with the result, but dealing with it all the same. "Ok."

"I've asked Mr. Ganthes and your other teachers to keep an eye on you, and your assignments. I like to think that this was a one time thing, but we can't be sure, can we? I just hope you can prove that you are a hard worker, and not a slacker."

_Slacker_. The boy felt his face turn a bit red at the accusation, but bit his tongue. "Yes."

_To Be Continued …_


	2. Unfurled and Underway

"You're cold that way, and that's why you say the things that you say. You can't attract the things that you lack, you're trying in vain."

_Jars of Clay_ Crazy Times

_**Maybe Today**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Two: **_Unfurled and Underway_

Dick retreated up into his room, deciding it might be a good idea to start studying math – or at least look like he was doing so. It was hard, being a bit bitter at the subject for getting him into trouble. Concentrating without thinking back on what Bruce had said was close to impossible, and finally the eleven-year-old snapped his textbook shut, tossing it aside with a bit of a huff. He sat on his bed, Indian style, with his arms folded across his chest and simply stared out his window towards the equally as bitter sky. For a few moments he just thought about the whole ordeal, but that did little to make things better.

He hadn't been grounded, so why did he feel a whole lot worse about everything? Probably due to the fact that Bruce had outright accused him of being lazy, taking the easy way out, and being untrustworthy.

Slipping away from his bed, Dick took up his phone, staring at it a few moments in guilt before deciding to go ahead and call. After all, he _hadn't_ been grounded – so why couldn't he use the phone? The raven-haired boy dialed up a number and waited, and when answered, asked for Haden. He was quick to be informed that Haden _couldn't _come to the phone, but that his mother _would_ tell him that Dick had called.

Dick hung up, knowing perfectly well what that meant.

Haden had been caught too. He dialed up Greg and Darcy, and finally found one of his friends that _could_ talk. Darcy Kent – the boy who had given them the answers.

"I'm _really_ sorry; I didn' know they weren't the right answers." Darcy reasoned, in his even though never properly accused. He and Dick rarely spoke, simply friends through friends. After all, the blonde-haired boy had moved in just this year, from 'In-e-ana' as Darcy would say. All Dick really knew about him was that he had a strange way of pronouncing his words at times, that, and a strange name. "I jus' saw'it were a Math quiz and, ya' know, figur'd it was us?

"Well, I'm not mad. It's my own fault for using the answers." Dick told him. "I was just wondering who all got caught?"

"Yer not the only one whose done gone and called. Felix, Josh, an' Haden already tol' me they're grounded. …Ya' didn' get grounded?"

"No."

Darcy gave a nervous laugh. "Tha's why yer not mad at me, then. Everyone else is pretty mad."

Dick shrugged, pacing towards his window and forcing it open while holding the phone with his shoulder. He was welcomed with a chilly breeze, though hardly cool enough to do anything about. "I have to go to Mr. Ganthers' help sessions now, Darc, so I _could_ be mad."

Another harrumph of laughter followed this, and it sounded like Darcy was eating something. It was somewhat annoying to listen to. "Mr. Ganthers' talked all our parents inta' makin' us go. I heard Haden hasta' go, my dad's makin' me go – and now ya're too. He's the devil. I hate 'em."

"Well, it's all going to come around one day or another. If we just get through it, then next year we'll laugh about it, right?"

"S'all gonna' come 'roun'." Darcy repeated, agreeing.

The sound of approaching footsteps warned Dick and the gypsy gave a nervous jump. He put his hand over the receiver and quickly whispered a goodbye, then hung-up. Not sparing a second for anything else, Dick took a flying leap onto his bed and flipped his math book open, trying to look like he was innocently and genuinely studying.

The door gently opened - a slight knock, but nothing more than that. There was no pause for extra assurance that it would be ok to come in, no moment to wait and see if maybe Dick didn't want anyone to come in. No, Bruce just entered. His attention drew straight to the window, and with an admonishing sigh, he looked at Dick. "The heat _is_ on."

"Oh -- yeah." Dick turned over, doing everything in his power _not_ to roll his eyes at the comment. Bruce was a billionaire. Figures he could afford a little open window – after all, it brought in the fresh scent of outdoors, and Dick enjoyed it. He slid it shut and locked the top, not bothering to look at his mentor as he returned to the bed, flopping down and staring at his book.

As if he could really study while Bruce was just _standing _there.

"Alfred seems to disagree with me."

_Huh_? Dick lifted his head, looking at Bruce with complete and utter curiosity. Wherever the conversation was heading, it was bound to be interesting. If _anyone_ disagreed with Bruce it was interesting. After all, he owned half of the city, he was the Batman, and well … he just wasn't someone you wanted to be on the bad side of. And even though Alfred was allowed to disagree with Bruce, it wasn't like the man would bring up the fact. Usually he'd just sulk about it and keep it to himself. So why was he telling Dick?

"He says you study, and you try hard, and I don't give you enough credit." A pause. "What do you think?"

Oh good. _What do you think_? Dick inwardly groaned - he despised that question. Bruce might as well ask him what he thought about the carpet in the Study. No matter _what_ Dick thought, it wouldn't change anything. It was just Bruce trying to play the 'good guy' role. And what could the boy actually say? 'Well, I agree. I _am_ a hard worker.'? That'd sound good, after he just cheated. Suspicious of a trap, and unwilling to make a fool of himself, Dick kept his mouth shut. He acted as if his comforter was of greater interest.

It wasn't.

"You're not going to say anything?"

"Well, I dunno."

"…"

Dick took in a deep breath and decided that if he didn't talk Bruce would be in a foul mood. He picked the lesser of two evils. "I _try_ to do my best." There, that was a safe answer – wasn't it?

"Well, you don't have to go to the morning help sessions. After school should be enough. Though, if the subject of cheating comes up again, and we find out that you are, in fact, not doing your own work – well, we'll just have to talk again."

_I'd **love** that._ Dick nodded. He hated it when Bruce got like this. It was strange, as much as he wanted the man to be act like his father – he hated it when this sort of thing occurred. He hated it when Bruce acted like Dick should fear him. And Dick hated it that he did.

As much as he adored the man, it was so easy to get pissed: _real _quick_, real _fast.

"Alfred says dinner's ready – I've got a case." And the man turned, leaving the room, and probably planning to be gone for half the night. It would be the last time the eleven-year-old would see him till tomorrow.

Oh well, he didn't care. Thankful that he wouldn't have to sit through an awkward dinner with his guardian, Dick got to his feet and started for the door. Thank God for Alfred.

* * *

As it turned out, all Dick's friends were forced into going to the after school help sessions, and not a single one was happy about it. Dick and Greg didn't outright blame Darcy, but it was hard not to get mad at him. Especially now that they were there, suffering for getting caught. Dick had to remind himself that _he_ was the one who had accepted the answers. Darcy hadn't even given them to him. Haden had.

Still.

Haden and Felix Marsh were giving Darcy the silent treatment, and doing what they could to get Dick and Greg to join them in their quest for justice. Though, by the end of the session, it seemed like they were mad at the two for not being mad with Darcy.

Mr. Ganthers just stared at the five, answered the few questions asked, and by the end of the session, appeared angered. "You all are here for your obvious lack of intellectual capacity of what we're studying. So, what I don't seem to understand is _why_ there aren't more questions being raised. As it appears, Mr. Grayson is the only one of you doing moderately well, and the only one asking questions."

It was an unwanted complement, and Dick had a feeling the teacher knew that. The last thing the eleven-year-old wanted was for his friends to be put under him by Mr. Ganthers. He braced himself and looked down at his book, deciding not to ask as many questions next time.

"All of your parents and or guardians have requested that I provide updates to tell them _how_ you are doing. So, I would suggest starting acting a little more interested in the subject. Comprende, gentleman?"

A small murmur.

"I hear he's got lives with some guy." Haden was waiting outside the school with Dick and Greg. Darcy and Felix's rides had already come and gone, leaving the three to wait. "I heard that his … boyfriend, or whatever the hell it is, is really sick too."

"Boyfriend?" Greg asked, looking confused. "You mean – he's gay?"

Dick sighed; this wasn't any of their business. He didn't care about Mr. Ganthers' life anymore than Mr. Ganthers' cared about _his_. Besides, he knew what it was like to have rumors going around like this. "At least he let us out a few minutes early."

Haden looked at Dick for a few moments and then shrugged. "He would have let us out earlier if you hadn't asked so many questions."

"I _had_ to ask _something_."

"Yeah, right – whatever." Haden slouched a bit, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket and staring out, wishing his ride would appear to take him home.

Swallowing a comeback, as usual, Dick wondered why he even bothered with Haden at times. Well, it wasn't like he had a choice. The two ran in the same circles, both popular, and both in all the same classes. It wasn't that Haden was annoying _all_ the time, it was just …he could get bad at the drop of a hat. Besides, Dick had his _own_ friends. Roy, Wally, Garth, Donna … he even got to pal around with the Superman at times. He didn't _need_ a bunch of rich-kids to be his friend. 'Beat that.' The boy thought to himself with a small smile.

"Is that your car, Dick?" Greg questioned as the Royce pulled into the school drive. He looked disappointed at the fact that it wasn't _his_ ride.

"See you guys tomorrow."

"Later."

* * *

The weeks seemed to do anything but drag. It was a continuous loop, week after week of the same routine – and it was getting old. The help sessions did little to brighten any day. The knowledge that right after school, when everyone else was so happy to go home, Dick and the other four found themselves waiting in silence for Mr. Ganthers to come and start their question-answer time. And even though they had been attending for the past three weeks, their grades did little to improve. Dick did manage to raise above the sudden drop after being caught cheating and once more retained a low B, but it did little to appease Bruce.

Not that the billionaire was upset by it, or mad – he would just offer the same line each time the subject came up. "_I know you can do better_." Dick was just thankful that he was still allowed to hit the roofs every weekend, and even some school nights that he got lucky. Despite the small collision he and his mentor had at times, it hardly lasted.

"It's really raging out there!" Felix proclaimed later that day, as the five waited for their math teach to show up. School had let out ten minutes ago, and they had dragged themselves into the empty classroom to await their doom. Though, there was a little comfort in the weather.

Even though it was raining, and dark – the fact that there was lightning and thunder pulled their attention away. It didn't lightning and thunder very often – it was almost a rare treat. Though, it was clear Greg didn't agree. He'd jump at the sudden book, and occasionally wince at the flash of light.

Dick made his way beside Felix, pushing a hand against the window as he looked outside. They were two stories up, and below students could be seen getting in their parent's cars, and filing on home. "They're all getting wet."

"Hah! Suckers." Felix smirked at the sight. "For once, this help session is worth something. They're out there getting drenched, and we're in here not getting drenched."

Casting an ill amused look at the other boy's direction, Dick opened up the window. "You think Mr. Ganthers is sick? He's usually here waiting, and it's been ten minutes."

It was Haden's turn to make his way to the two at the window. He gave a lame shrug and took a turn to see the sight below them. "He's never sick. With our luck, he's probably running off extra assignments so we can get more practice in. He'll probably make them homework too, _just for us_."

"He can' do that!" Darcy exclaimed, not enjoying hearing this.

"I don't think he can." Dick told him, looking at Haden, unsure.

Haden simply gave a smile and shook his head.

As if to answer the lingering question, the door boomed open and their teacher entered, looking a bit more out of sorts than usual. He didn't have any of his things with him, no satchel, no papers, no books. "The help session has been cancelled – get out."

There was a communal silence at this. All five were unsure what to make of this strange statement. Was it because of the rain? Was the weather going to get worse? Was Mr. Ganthers sick? They stayed immobile for a few moments, and then as if released, started to pack up their things, saying nothing until they were out in the hall.

"That was weird." Dick breathed, looking at Haden, as if his friend might have the answer to why they were dismissed. He knew better than to think Haden would know anything, after all, the boy lived off of assumptions and rumors. Still, an assumption was better than nothing. With an assumption, Dick could at least assume something – right?

"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?"

Greg looked confused. "No."

"He's talking about Ganthers' 'friend'." Felix sighed, hitching up his backpack and starting down the stairs. He shook his head as he spoke. "You don't know anything, Haden."

"I know that his boyfriend was getting sicker last week, I'll bet you anything he died or something. I bet _that's_ why the help session was cancelled." He sported a secure smile at his statement and looked back to Dick. "We got lucky."

"Someone dyin' ain't lucky t'all." Darcy said softly, more to himself then the others. "But I'm glad that we don' hafta sit through another 'our of _that_."

"A _what_? Talk _normal_, Darcy! " Haden accused, which only served to start a fight between him and the blonde.

"An 'our! I can say 'our!"

"It's _HOUR_! Just like it isn't _tal_! It's TOWEL! You talk like a retard."

Darcy gave a centered glare. "Least I don' talk like a'snob."

"Thank _God_ I do! It's better than your …"

Dick ignored them, though he couldn't help but feel a bit happy about the help session being cancelled. If someone _had_ died, he shouldn't be thankful that it was the reason he was freed of a few hours of boredom. It was hard to help though, Gathers was like the devil's spawn at times. The eleven-year-old dug through his backpack and pulled out his cell phone, dialing home.

Greg looked at him. "Can I use that when you're done?"

"Sure."

_To be continued …_


	3. None of Your Concern

**Author's Note: **I was driving to class today, thinking about the homework I had just completed. It was concerning drug testing in the work-place, and we had to write our opinion on it. I've always been against it, since before I can remember, but for the sake of difference, I decided to write for it. It opened up a strange thought – our personal life is our own, but is that really true? It was just interesting to think about, and then I thought about this fiction. How none of our business can suddenly become all of our concern when we get pulled into a bad situation caused from someone's personal affairs. It's just weird to think about. And it gave me a title.

"Maybe it's not the early to learn how to love and forget how to hate. Mental wounds not healing, driving me insane. It's crazy, but what do I care? We're living with something that's just not fair."

_Ozzy Osbourne_ Crazy Train

**_Maybe Today_**

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Three: **_None of Your Concern_

"Haden said that his friend probably died or something."

Bruce had been the one to pick Dick up that afternoon. He had taken a day of for no reason at all, really. Yes, he had been tried, and yes – he didn't feel like going to work, but that wasn't anything new. He _never_ felt like going to work. If it weren't for the knowledge that his parents had entrusted the business to him, he probably wouldn't go at all. Well, that and Alfred's continuation of unpleasant reminders. So, once during the work week, Bruce would take a day off. And today was his day.

Dick was quiet for a few moments, staring out the window, watching the rain fall. After a bit he turned to Bruce. "Do you know if that's true?"

"No."

"Haden said it's not just any friend, he said it's his … boyfriend." Dick waited for a reaction, there wasn't much of one.

"What, exactly, are _Haden's_ sources? Gossip is gossip, and Mr. Ganthers' personal life isn't your business."

"Well, I know, but if he's sad – that's sort of everyone's concern, isn't it?" Dick shrugged his shoulders. He drew his foot up to rest on the edge of the seat, and placed his chin on his knee. Nothing was really said on that, and Dick didn't really agree with what he had said. _He_ didn't care if his teacher was sad – his teacher was mean, and that bothered him more then the later. Perhaps if Mr. Ganthers were nice, like Mrs. Olsen, maybe _then_ Dick would care a little bit more.

It was hard to feel much of anything for someone like Mr. Ganthers.

"Can I go with you tonight?" Dick looked at his guardian, hoping for a yes, but unsure if he would get one. With Bruce, you could never be sure of anything. He seemed to be in a good mood.

"See what Alfred says."

"What does it matter what he says?" Dick knew he was pouting, but he couldn't stop himself. He _really_ wanted to go with Bruce tonight. "Can't you think for yourself?"

"No."

Dick smiled up at Bruce, slightly amused. "Hey, _this_ isn't the way home."

"We're making a quick stop at the office."

At this revelation, Dick grimaced. The office was never much fun, and it hadn't been for a few months now. Not since he became suddenly shy around strangers, and more unwilling to talk to with Bruce's partners and secretaries. Only a year ago, the boy would have _loved_ to go – he'd follow Bruce around, feeling proud, and talking to people who stopped to talk to him. He'd tell them anything they wanted to know, and then some. But now, it was awkward, stuffy, and no fun at all. "…Ok."

There was a small gap of silence.

"Hey looky at them!" Dick pressed a hand against the clean window, and gave a little jump. "Did you see that?"

"No." Bruce didn't sound like he much cared either.

"Th-those people were waiting for the bus, and the old woman held out her hand for it to stop, but it passed by without a second thought. What jerks!" Dick gave a huff and looked at his guardian, expecting to get an agreement – though a _hell yeah _from Bruce was far from likely. "People can be so _rude_! Now they have to wait for the next bus! Now they're going to be late, and who knows what they'll be late _for_. Man alive."

Once more, Bruce appeared to have sawdust in his mouth, or something equally tasteless. "That's life."

"It's all gonna' come around, hope they don't let it get them down _too_ much." Dick quoted on cue, giving Bruce a small smile.

"Right." The billionaire didn't know why Dick was so god-damn optimistic all the time. It wasn't that he minded, because he didn't. In truth, in honesty, he was pleased that the kid could be so happy about the bad things in life. Though, the phrase was starting to get to him.

* * *

Dick was waiting in the hall, seated quietly nearby Bruce's secretary - Sarah. There was little to be done, other than wait, but that didn't derive the boy from having _any_ fun at all. He allowed himself the pleasure of daydreaming, thinking on different things – most of which were unimportant. Sarah offered to go down to a waiting room and find him some Highlights magazines, or maybe some puzzle books. Dick gently, but seriously refused the offer, reminding her he was eleven. He didn't need to play games, he could wait. 

She just smiled and apologized.

After about fifteen minutes of waiting, Dick decided that he was _too_ bored. So, he dropped to his knees, and began to dig though his backpack – figuring he could at least doodle while he waited for Bruce to be done with the meeting.

It was then that the doors from Bruce's office slammed open with an unpleasant bang, and a man walked out in a huff. He didn't look at all happy, or anywhere near being calm. In fact, Dick couldn't help but freeze at the sight of the man walking towards him.

"You don't put _me_ on probation! My personal life is _no concern of anyone's_!" He hollered over his shoulder. "I won't even give you the luxury of putting me on probation, because _I_ **quit**!"

Bruce followed him out the office, looking ticked, but managing to talk rationally. "I can't do anything about that, Mr. McKinley. It's not my decision to make, you'll have to contact one of your -."

"You _own_ the company! Don't tell_ me_ you didn't have a part in this!" The man did stop to argue, turning around and looking flushed in his face. "There is _no_ proof of any of the accusations brought against me."

"I told you before, if you would call -."

"Oh _no_. I know where this is headed, a series of phone calls and appointments that will get me nowhere. I'm not going to play your games _anymore_, Mr. Wayne. I'd rather spend my time in a worthwhile manner, thank you very much. And let me tell you something..."

Bruce gave Sarah a look, and the woman picked up the phone, dialing a number.

Mr. McKinley didn't seem to notice, far too focused on himself, and much to angry to do anything other than speak his mind. At this point, he couldn't think rationally – not anymore. "If anyone in the company should be put on probation due to their personal lives, it should be _you_! Gotham's rich bachelor playboy! The man who spends his nights at parties and sleeping with women whose names he can't even remember! That is a _fact_." He turned around, batting the air angrily at Bruce, and paused in his tracks, seeing Dick. "And _this_. I get accused of coming to work under the influence, and am sentenced with probation. While you blatantly-."

"Dick, come here." Bruce snapped, knowing perfectly well where this was going. "And Mr. McKinley, it would be best if you _left_."

"-Blatantly bring in your _boytoy_."

Dick knew perfectly well what _that_ was. Bruce was ordering him to come in a stern tone, and to go into his office, but the eleven-year-old didn't listen. It was hard to tear his attention away from the man glowering down at him.

Yes, Dick was upset – but in a distressing sort of way. He didn't like it when people called him that. But he wasn't mad. He wasn't going to glare back, or get flustered – no, Dick didn't consider those options. All he could do was just stare up at the man, in wonder of how someone could _be_ so irate … so angry.

He didn't like it at all.

Bruce was now blocking his view of Mr. McKinley, and saying something in a tone that Dick hardly ever heard. It was one the Batman used, and it meant things had gone from bad to dangerous for the person in the wrong. "_Get out, McKinley_."

And then there were security guards, pulling away the man, dragging him out of the room, and warning him to be quiet. It wasn't a pretty sight to see, somewhat embarrassing considering that a grown man was throwing a tantrum.

"Are you alright?"

Dick wrenched his head up, looking at his guardian with wide blue eyes - fretful that Bruce might be upset that he hadn't done as he had been told. Nodding, he studied his mentor's expression, and saw that he wasn't in any trouble at all. "What was _he_ so mad about?"

"He thinks he's being treated unfairly."

"Why?"

Bruce gave him a steady look, considering telling the boy. He was pissed enough, that was for sure. Swallowing his blind anger, the billionaire shook his head, knowing better than sharing such information with others. It wouldn't be proper edict anyhow, even if McKinley asked for it. "Don't worry about it."

Thinking about that for a few minutes, Dick gave a loud and slightly obnoxious sigh. It was clear he was unhappy as he shook his head at Bruce. "Why is everyone _so mad_ all the time? And why is it, that when they're mean to other people, it's still nobody's business? I say if you're mean, then - then the people who you're mean to should _at least_ know _why_ you're being mean. …That's what I think."

That was something to think on, and Bruce couldn't say he didn't whole-heartedly disagree. He put it past him, and moved his head to the child's backpack. "You want to go home now?"

"_Yeah_."

Sarah smiled at the two, patting her hair in a self-conscious motion.

* * *

"An-and you could tell her that you got another g-girl you have to go see. Then she'd never bother you _again_." A bit on the hyper side due to a late night, and talking with an energized stutter, young Dick Grayson couldn't help himself. And what was more: _Bruce didn't seem bothered at all by it_. Even though Alfred had told him that bedtime was half an hour ago, the two hadn't done much to follow orders. The matter of Bruce's date tomorrow had come up, and Dick was doing everything in his power to convince his mentor to get out of it so they could go on patrol again. 

The billionaire gave a frown, humored nevertheless. "And then I'd be in trouble with her for the rest of my life. Sounds like a great plan, Dick."

"Alfred made me stay home that one time he thought I was sick, you could tell her that you _think _y-you're sick, and that Alfred wants you to stay home." Dick gave a little jump on his bed, smiling at the thought, figuring it was perfect logic. "You're good at lying!"

"Just what I want to hear, that you think I'm good at lying."

"Well, you lie about being Batman, don'cha? Same difference."

"Alfred's going to chop of my head when he finds out you're still awake." Bruce admitted, getting to his feet and smiling a bit at the Romanian boy.

"That could be your excuse! Sorry, Mandy, I've got n-no head." He laughed at his own words, shaking his head at the thought. "She wouldn't want to see you _ever_ again. You could be like the headless horseman 'er something. The Headless Batman!"

"Amusing." Bruce didn't sound amused, but a lacking smile spread across his face. "But sadly, you are rewarded zero humor points for lack of good grammar."

A small intermission in the conversation, Dick looking up at the unmasked Dark Knight at this statement, he smiled right back. "What? Just 'cause I said got? Huh? Why does that bother you so much? This kid in my class talks worse. Got, got, got, got! I got two feet! You _got_ to hide from Alfred. Got."

"Good point. You _got_ to go to bed." Bruce made his way towards the bedroom door, tossing a smirk over his shoulder at the crestfallen expression he was receiving from the eleven-year-old. He flipped off the light.

"Aren't you going to say goodnight to me?" Dick demanded, willing to ask tonight. Usually it wouldn't have mattered, but tonight they had bonded – they had had fun.

"Nope."

"_Bruce_!"

Not a smile, not completely, but a smile in a strange way. "Goodnight, talk to you tomorrow."

Dick kept sitting upright, staring at his mentor's silhouette through the shadows as his eyes adjusted to the darkened room. "Hey, Bruce?"

"…Yes?" He was starting to sound a bit annoyed. The last thing he wanted was Dick to try and sucker him into staying up. The billionaire knew better that to fall for that trick.

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"And?"

"Oh, well … nothing. G'night."

"Night."

* * *

"Hi-uup!" Dick let out as he gave the soccer ball a resounding kick, sending it literally _soaring_ through the air. He placed his hands on his hips with a proud smile as it sailed through the sky and right over the edge of the cliff. Dick had more then enough soccer balls, besides – that one was getting past its prime, he could spare it. There was no splash to be heard, but he knew perfectly well that the white and black ball was now floating about in the water. Hey, maybe some poor kid would find it and have a soccer ball to play with. 

Good logic.

All the ball had to do was float all the way around, past the rich neighbors. At that thought, Dick felt his heart sink a bit. He didn't _like_ the rich neighbors too much, and now there was the possibility that _they_ might get his soccer ball. He slouched a bit and turned, trotting back across the yard, down the beaten path in the grass. Oh well, if they got it, they wouldn't even want it – would they?

It didn't take but a few seconds for Dick to completely forget about the soccer ball floating helplessly away. He took off in a sprint and performed a one-handed cartwheel, grinning at the thought that he didn't have school till Monday. And there was a chance Bruce could get off his date early, so they could go out on patrol.

He landed with poise, and dashed back towards the house. The rest of his afternoon was spent doing various activities, all of which proved only to bore his interest. When five rolled around, and Bruce's car pulled down the drive, Dick waited patiently to see about patrol.

Bruce's date was at eight, and with any luck, it would be over by eleven or so.

"I told you, I don't know, chum." Bruce answered, strained, as he came through the front door and was bombarded with the inquiry. He didn't like being pestered again and again with the same question. It only annoyed him. He knew Dick _wanted_ to go on patrol, but that didn't make anything change. It all depended on the city, the crime – and the girl. It was bewildering _why_ Dick enjoyed being out there so much.

A bored and vaguely aggravated sigh was the eleven-year-olds reply. He followed Bruce up the stairs, thinking of different ways he could perhaps convince his mentor _not_ to go. Dick knew that he _shouldn't_ pester his guardian too much, but it was hard to hold his tongue. After all, he had done nothing of significance all day, and had been crossing his fingers that Bruce would give the green light for patrol. "Well, I _am_ eleven."

"_No_."

"You don't know what I was gunna' to say."

A keen and parental look as the man lingered outside of his bedroom. Hand on the door, about ready to enter his room, Bruce knew he needed to elucidate this now. "First. I'm going out with the girl. Second. You're too young to be out there alone. And third, _stop_ _asking_."

Dick lowered his eyes, not enjoying the tone he was receiving. He wished that just once in his life he could tell his mentor off. Bruce could be stupid at times. After all, Dick had only asked about it a few times – and last night they had been great friends, buddies … partners. Now it was different, now Bruce was the boss and Dick was the kid.

Turning around, the raven-haired gypsy skunked towards his bedroom. He heard Bruce's door open and close, meaning that it was a done deal. Bruce wouldn't be changing his mind now. Oh well. It could be worse.

After all, it will all just come around, tomorrow was another day.

* * *

Monday afternoon, waiting in Mr. Ganthers' class per routine, the five boys sat in almost absolute silence. Complete, minus the diminutive fact that Darcy was singing to himself as he twisted his pencil in the air. It was annoying, but thus far nobody had said a word over the matter. "A lil' bidd'a how it's'possed ta' be. A lil' bidd'a life. A-Breathe in, a-breathe out, yeah, sleepin'all night with them winda's down. Up'in the mornin', a-sturrin'round, drink'a pot'a coffee an' I head off ta' town." 

"STOP! Just stop. Speak _normal_ or get outta' Gotham, Darcy!" Haden finally breathed - the first to finally get the gull to say something. "You aren't even trying. In fact, you've gotten _worse_."

"I was with my family all weeken', an' they all talk like that there." Darcy defended, sitting out his lower lip unintentionally. He sulked down in his seat, staring towards the front of the class. "So what if I talk different? What's it matter?"

"I matter's 'cause this isn't 'Alabamy', or wherever the hell you came from. You're going to get _shot_ talking like that here."

Felix and Greg were snickering, partially because it was funny, and partially because they were still a bit bitter with Darcy for their being here.

"In-e-ana."

"You can't even say your own _state_ right. And why the hell do you talk like you're from the south? Indiana is _Midwest_! It's not _southern_."

"I don' talk like I'm from the south!"

"Yes you do, you uneducated idiot. Did all the rich kids there talk like you?"

Dick leaned forward on his desk, bouncing his legs as he waited for the teacher to come. "He wasn't rich in Indiana." _Oops_. He hadn't meant to say that. Sparing a glance at Darcy, he could see that his words didn't bother the boy with the poor accent.

Darcy breathed through his nose, and shrugged casually. He looked about ready to tell his story, but Mr. Ganthers' slammed the door to the classroom open. The teacher entered, looking very disturbed, and very … unusual. His face was flushed, and he appeared to be sweating profusely, as if he had run all the way to the study group from his house.

Glancing at the five, he slammed the door shut, and flipped the lock. Mr. Gathers then stomped to his desk, dropping his briefcase to the floor, and unloading the stack of books from his arms. Not a word was said, but it was clear that the man wasn't happy. It was more than clear.

The fact that the door was lock didn't help anything either. The five boys kept looking towards it, and glancing at each other with uncertainty. Suddenly the argument over Darcy's accent seemed minuscule, minute in comparison. Mr. Gathers was scary on a normal day – this just made him horrifying.

"A … sir?" Felix slowly started, his hazel eyes were wide as they looked anywhere but the man he was addressing. "The door is locked. I don-don't think the doors are supposed to be locked."

Dick couldn't help the look he gave Felix. It was one mixed with relief and disbelief. There was no way Mr. Ganthers was going to be nice in his response, but maybe – just maybe, he'd unlock that door.

The teacher pulled the briefcase in front of him, unzipping it while looking at the small group. "I realize that. It's locked for a reason."

"…Why?" It was Haden talking now, and his smart-alec front having been dropped.

"Is something wrong, sir?" Greg barely managed. His voice was soft, but noticeable. "Are you ok?"

"No." He gave a strange laugh that only frightened the five all the more. Mr. Ganthers' didn't laugh … and even if he did – it shouldn't be like that. The laugh sent off signal bells, a warning that something was _very_ wrong, and that somebody should do something about the situation.

Somebody should unlock that door.

Dick studied the man's trembling body, and watched as the teacher fumbled in the briefcase – apparently stalling. The eleven-year-old didn't know much, but he could see that Mr. Ganthers' didn't want to take his hands out of that case just yet. It was as if he were waiting for something.

That something was Haden. The twelve-year-old apparently had enough of the stifled environment and rose to his feet. "I'll just unlock the door."

"No you won't." Mr. Ganthers said in a sickly sweet voice, a strange voice. He pulled his hands out of the briefcase and a black object caught all of their attention.

He had a gun.

Haden froze, everyone froze.

"We're going to finish what we started. I promised Alexander I'd finish what _he_ started. Pass it on and on. The only trouble is … I don't know which of you I like best." His voice was high-pitched, troubled. It was as if their teacher had completely vanished and left them with some monster, some horrific, horrible monster.

_To Be Continued …_

**loopylouise123: **Thanks! Yeah, my friends always make fun of the way I talk, so I stole what they said one day and basically used it. Thanks for the reviews on both chapters! I'm glad you're enjoying it. I know I am, lol - I think that's good, haha.

**DarkDark: **Haha, yeah - it can be. You just gotta' grin and deal I suppose, well, I do at least. Thanks so much.

**Johanna: **I was worried about his accent, thought it might be really annoying. I'm glad it wasn't too bad. I know a lot of people get annoyed when they read accents, and I don't blame them. Accents can be hard to read ... I could have just put: Darcy had a southern accent. Oh well, make things difficult! Thanks for the review!!

**kokomocalifornia: **When I can - good point. I actually am up to chapter eight right now, just am slow at posting. It's rather impressive, seeing as I usually take years to get as far as chapter eight. Thanks so much for the review, I'm glad you like it.

**Trunksblue: **Wow, for a second I forgot you reviewed. I was like: I thought she did, but where is she? Then I found you. Good story, huh? I already sent you a message, but I figure I'll prattle on here too. I'm allowed to do that I think. If not, oh well, I don't think you'll care. And if you do, well ... lol, I dunno. I have class soon, history for three hours straight. I'm going to die. Oh, and thanks for the review. Haha.

**Panamint: **I won't lie, I did a double take when I saw your review. I was like: Why does that name sound so fimiliar? Why? Why? Why? Then it dawned on me! Broken Glass! You need to update in that, blah. I'll just outright say it. I need to review your last chapter. I actually didn't get a message that said you updated, I just checked a few minutes ago when I saw you had reviewed, and bam. I read it already, and I hope you write more soon! There, I'm done being annoying.


	4. Two Down, Three More

**WARNING!!!: **This chapter includes the death of two of Dick's classmates. If you don't want to read it, don't – please _don't_. Once more, I didn't write into detail, but it happens. If you want the basic details so you won't have to read it, please, just email and skip this chapter. I can send you an outline. I'd much rather have that.

**Disclaimer: **None of these are mine, not a single one. Even if I made them up, they're all there because of Batman. DC, WB, and Bob Kane own these babies.

And thanks be to ye Trunksblue, the plot-hole catcher, who totally pointed out a plot-hole and who I totally was like: "Man, I should edit that plot hole." Then, I never did. So yeah, just know, she pointed out the plot hole. I'll fix it in later chapters. I wrote myself a note.

"Sparkling angel, I couldn't see your dark intentions, your feelings for me. Fallen angel, tell me why? What is the reason, the thorn in your eye? I see the angels; I'll lead them to your door. There's no escape now, no mercy no more. No remorse cause I still remember. This world may have failed you, but it doesn't give you reason why. You could have chosen a different path in life. You smiled when you tore me apart."

**Within Temptation **_Angeles_

_**Maybe Today**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Four: **_Two Down, Three More_

"Mister Wayne?" Sarah didn't bother to knock this time. She opened the door without a second thought and took a troubled step into the office. "Mister Wayne? It's Mr. Pennyworth on the phone, there's a problem with Dick."

'Problem' could imply a variety of things, but the billionaire didn't have to fumble around as to what she meant. He could see it visibly in her face. Dick was in trouble. Dick needed help.

Picking up the phone, Bruce pressed the flashing button, and cleared his throat. "Alfred? What's the matter?"

The horrifying explanation didn't take long.

* * *

"What's happening?" Felix cried softly, the first to speak in what seemed to be an everlasting silence. He was shaking from fear, there was no control there. His hazel eyes were wide, showing the reflection of Mr. Ganthers' holding his gun at them. Pointed at Haden. "_We need to go_." 

Dick wanted to tell him something … _anything_. Perhaps a word of comfort, perhaps a joke – but his attention was solely on the gun directed towards Haden. Dick didn't like it there. He didn't like it there at all. Closing his eyes and turning slowly, he forced his focus on the teacher. The gun wasn't the trouble; it was the man holding it. "Mr. G-Ganthers?"

"Not here, Dickie." Ganthers answered. "Gone away for the time being, but don't worry – he doesn't mind. He doesn't mind because he _wants_ this to happen. Especially to _you_." He turned now, the gun still directed at Haden, but his concentration exclusively on Dick.

It was an unwanted look being given to the eleven-year-old, and he couldn't help taking a step away, as if the short amount of distance would actually be of any use to him. All it did was make him realize that he was locked in a room with a psycho teacher, and there wasn't any other way out. Dick didn't say anything more, and his eyes flashed downward, to the carpet, not wanting to see Mr. Ganthers looking at him like that.

"You, and maybe Darcy, we aren't picky, you're both … just fine. As for the others, well, we shall see what we shall see. Perhaps you'll be of no use, but maybe – just maybe, if you're good, and Darcy and Dick are good, you'll get a chance to prove your worth." He started to walk around the desk, coming in front of it and ending the gap between him and the others.

The five moved away in unison, falling back, but only for the sake of doing so. There was nothing truly to be gained.

"I don't like you, though. I don't like you at all. _Haden_. I've heard what you've said about me, in and out of class. There were times you said it when I was right there, and you didn't even care. Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself and your fun while you had the chance. Because, to show just _how_ serious I am, I think I'll use you. What do you say?"

Haden had tears running down his face. The school smart-alec, the big-shot who always got in the last word, was crying now. He backed away from the teacher, shaking his head. "Puh-please don't hurt me!"

Dick felt his insides go utterly still, numbing at the sight.

"Don't hurt you?"

"M-my mom wants me to be h-h-home tonight." Haden pleaded, drawing quivering hands together and shaking his head all the more. The tears were dripping to the floor, making no dent whatsoever on the teacher. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ganthers!"

"I _told_ you, Mr. Gathers' isn't here!" A click and a bang.

Dick lurched himself towards Haden, knocking the boy down to the ground, and gasping as his right arm cracked against a desk. He felt himself atop of his classmate, and slowly opened his eyes, despite wanting to keep them sealed – afraid to peak.

Haden was looking at him, almost confused. "D-Dick? Am I?"

There was the feeling of something wet soaking into Dick's shirt, making contact with his skin, and sending off a frightful warning. Somebody was bleeding, and Dick had the sinking feeling it _wasn't_ him. "You're ok, Haden." Dick lied, not moving, not wanting Haden to see.

"Oh good." Haden started to sob now. "Good, good, good. 'Cause I hafta' go home tonight."

"Yeah, you'll go home."

"G-good."

A shadow etched across of the two and Dick lifted his head, eyes enlarging at Mr. Ganthers' face staring down at the two.

"I got him." It was a casual remark, with a tone of glee mixed into it. The teacher's sullen expression slowly twitched, hinting at a smile. He looked at Dick, and nodded. "Get away from him."

"No."

Ganthers was quiet for a few moments, a second or two, and then reached down, grasping Dick's upper arm and pulling him away from Haden, breaking the contact, and forcing the gypsy boy to see the pool of blood around his friend.

"_Haden_!" Dick shrieked and jerked away. His movement invoked a sudden eruption of strength from Gathers, and the teacher sent the boy flying backwards, into a row of desks. His right arm gave another smack against a seat, and Dick couldn't hold in the yelp of pain.

Greg, Felix, and Darcy were all unmoving, staring at Haden who lay on the floor, eyes squeezed shut at the sight of Mr. Ganthers looking down at him.

"You're not going home, Haden, in fact, you're not going anywhere. You're dying, and there's no saving you. Even if I had a change of heart, and wanted to – you're too far gone. Don't you see? Look, Haden, look – you've never seen your blood like _this_ before. It's all over."

Haden let out a heartbreaking sob, which was ending by another gun blast.

"_NO_!" Dick screamed, flopping forward and tripping back the ground. He felt his face come in contact with the carpeted floor, and decided that it might just be best to stay there.

Someone else was sobbing now, and Dick didn't even want to know.

"What's wrong?!" Greg was saying. "Mr. Gathers – what's _wrong_! That was HADEN! _HADEN!_"

"Shut up, Greg, or the same thing will happen to you. You fat crybaby, got that?" The man snapped. His tone was darker then before. "Get up, Grayson, or I'll kill one of your other friends. You don't want that, now do you? None of you do. So if you don't do _as I say_, I'll kill you."

"…Did you kill the others?" Dick questioned, sitting up, and forcing his eyelids apart. "Did you kill everyone who was in the school?"

"Not _all_ of them. It only took a few, and then … and then the rest got the idea to get out of the building pronto. My, my, Grayson – you're quite the big boy, aren't you? Brave little kid."

Dick wasn't brave, even if he sounded it, he wasn't anywhere _near_ brave. In all honesty, he felt much like the others around him. And more than anything, he'd love to stand there and do and say _nothing_. But he couldn't … he couldn't.

He was Robin.

Robin.

_I'm Robin._ "Why … why didn't we hear the gun then?"

"Because I had a _silencer on then_. Stop asking idiotic questions. I don't have time for them, I'm more than sure that Gotham's finest cops are on their way over to try and save the day. They won't though. Now, how about you answer _me_ a question, Dickie? Are the rumors true?"

Dick felt color fade away at the simple and unexplained question. There wasn't any need to expand on what was meant, Dick knew. He'd been victim to the rumors his first year at the school, and even though they had faded away, there was still the occasional mention of it.

"Because, I think that they are – and if they are, you and Henry Ganthers are just alike. Aren't you? On different levels sure, but I know all about it. When he was seven, his father's good friend attacked him. And you know what? His father, when Henry finally worked up the gut to _tell_ him … he didn't believe Henry. How do you like that? He didn't even bother to _stop_ inviting his friend over. And so, it kept happening. Again, and again, and again. And as the years went on, Henry started to fade away, and I started to come to life. I learned that it wasn't so bad. In fact, with time I learned to love him. Love Alexander." Gathers walked towards Dick, his gun lowered towards the ground. "Henry Ganthers is much too … too ashamed to ever admit that he _loved_ Alexander. So, it was up to me to make the connection."

"And he died."

Ganthers went still at the words. "Yes. Alexander died."

"I'm sorry – it must be hard … but … but you _can't_ do this. You can't just kill us. Everybody looses somebody close at some point in time."

A wry smile. "Trying to console me? Is that what this is, Dickie? You fail to see the point; I didn't _want_ to kill anyone. It's just obvious that things wouldn't go very smoothly if I didn't kill them. You wouldn't take me very seriously if I hadn't killed Haden, would you have? So answer me, are the rumors true?"

Dick glared at his teacher, hating the man with all that was in him. "_No_. And don't call me _that_." People who called him Dickie _loved_ him – this man polluted the nick-name, made it sound wrong.

A chilling and unpleasant silence fell between the five in the room. And then Mr. Ganthers gave a repulsive look that slowly faded into a smile. "You want to know the best part of this, Dickie?"

Greg was starting to sob now, and Darcy was making similar sounds.

"The best part is they can't condemn me for any of this. I'm insane."

Dick felt his chin buckle, and he bit down on his tongue to stop himself from making anymore signs of fear. He stared directly at his teacher and wished like anything he could think of something clever to say. The truth was … he was right. Gotham would claim Henry Ganthers insane, and move him to be rehabilitated. Just like the Joker, just like Two Face, just like all the others.

It wasn't fair.

"I'll make you pay." Dick weakly answered, and he felt his three friends looking at him, waiting for him to do something. They were waiting for him to save them from this place, from this man, and from falling into a fate like Haden's – or worse. "You'll pay."

"Mr. Henry Ganthers!" The loud voice boomed across the area, catching everyone's attention and drawing it to a man standing outside the school. He had a loud speaker and looked a bit tired, as if having come from a long day of work to this. "We just want to talk. If you'd answer a phone, it would make things better for everyone, including yourself."

Dick drew in a trembling breath at the break in silence, and glanced nervously towards the window. He saw Felix, Darcy, and Greg all turn their attention in the same direction. It was the sound of help – that's what it was! Help was on the way, people were doing what they could to save them!

Felix lifted a hand to his chest and glanced insecurely at his friends, though never at the teacher. He continued to scan the room, perhaps looking for a phone - because, well, none of them had heard a phone ring.

"Idiots." Their teacher sneered, and pointed to Greg, causing the twelve-year-old to jump about a foot. "Close the shades, _now_."

Giving a weak nod, Greg did as he was told, quickly drawing the shades and locking them all away from the divine sight below. Once the last one was drawn he returned to standing next to Darcy and bowed his head.

"Well, looks like things are going to get interesting now, aren't they?" Ganthers hissed taking another step towards Dick and looking at him with an endless, unjustified, hate. "We can thank Gotham City Police for that, can't we? They're quick to save the children of the rich, quick to save the city's reputation. Of course, of course."

Dick saw a phone sitting on the teacher's desk and knew that calls probably weren't directed to it. The main phones were in the office – and there was no chance that Henry Ganthers would move to go answer one.

If only he would.

_Can't let anyone else die here_. Dick squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, thinking of Haden – realizing that his friend was dead, lying just a few feet away. If Dick needed motivation, all he had to do was look over and see. And if that didn't do it, then look at Greg, Darcy, and Felix – and know that it could happen to them too. "Y-you aren't going to talk to them?" Oh, he didn't want to talk with the teacher. He didn't want any attention on him right now.

"Why should I? They'll want to discuss my options, sweet talk me into giving you all up, and giving myself up. That's all. Why should I?" As if to answer his question, the loud voice etched its way through the room again, prying past the walls and into the building.

"Henry, all I want to do is talk. I understand you've had a lot of shit happen the past few days. I understand you're under a lot of stress …"

"Damn." The teacher began to pace the room, putting his hands to his ears. "Damn, damn, damn!"

"You just lost someone you love, and things aren't going good for you. But Henry, they're going to get worse. You're in over your head, and the only way to get out is to talk to _me_. I want to help you."

Ganthers suddenly drew a blank in his pacing and dropped his hands down, letting them rest at his sides. Turning ever so slowly, he looked at Greg and then Felix. "Let's take a vote. Shall we? Who do I like best?"

Dick felt his mouth go dry. "Jus-just talk with them, sir! Just for a bit, see what they, see what they … s-see what they want." He was trying to talk as loud as he could, but it sounded completely helpless. He was begging. "_Please_."

"Greg … open up a window for me, and make sure they all see you. I want to tell them something."

Greg nodded and hurried for the window. He pulled open the shade and then unlatched the locks, pushing the thick glass panel up. A cool breeze rushed into the room, and it offered some comfort to the boys, reminding them of the World outside the class.

Mr. Ganthers moved, standing at the wall beside Greg, beside the window – but making sure he couldn't be seen. He motioned for Greg not to move and then cleared his throat, lifting his gun and pointing it at the boy. "WHOEVER THE HELL YOU ARE TALKING, SHUT THE FUCK UP! I CAN'T THINK WITH YOU SCREAMING AT ME! SO HERE'S THE DEAL. YOU TALK A SHIT BIT MORE AND THIS WILL HAPPEN AGAIN!" He pulled the trigger of the gun.

Dick flinched, jumping at the surprise at hearing the sound echo through the room like it had before. He didn't say a word as he watched yet another victim, Greg, fall with ease. His body collapsed to the side, and suddenly the sound of screaming began outside.

"SHUT UP!" Ganthers bellowed.

The cries died down with his words, and in an instant there was the silence he had desired.

Begrudgingly given.

"Mr. Harding!"

Felix fell backwards in terror, falling on his backside and whimpering a bit. Though, once he realized he was still breathing, he looked over at the teacher.

"Close the fucking window and shade."

_To be continued …_

**Pookie Power 2005**: Ghosts was a forced chapter, lol, it's not good at all. I had to sit there and be like: Cassie, write it! Yeah, I'm just glad I was finally a bit more inspired to write more in our fanfiction, I'm glad chapter six is complete and seven is being to take shape! We rock, or well, you rock - I just write, lol. You give me stuff, and I write it, haha. Thanks so much for the review, I'm so happy you like this fanfiction, so happy.

**Panamint: **I often wonder about pennames - whats up with yours? LOL, I was thinking Star Wars, but I don't know why. Haha. I totally read your fanfiction and flipped out when you ended with that, gah! EVIL. Just so you know, I'm waiting. You should update now, lol. Hows that sound?

**Kanny: **I wish there were more Bruce/Dick moments in this chappie, but sadly - none. I do like writing those, I can go on and on with them with so much ease. Everything else I struggle at. Ten pages of conversation between Dick and Bruce and one of a plot, lol. I'm awful like that, haha - or good, depends how you view it. Thanks for the review! I love reveiws, I'm big for my britches, or something.

**Trunksblue: **GAH! Cell phones are such a pain in the ass, I swear. I'm totally going to not have them use them, maybe chapter five? Plot hole alert! Plot Hole 101, a class I failed to attend. LOLIRL. You'll die when you read the next chapter, seriously. It's like, plot hole haven, sort of - really. Just stab me. You'll understand when I post, let's just say - Superman. AHH! I did it! I did it! I took the easy way out!! Wow, and now I gave away chapter five.

**Jester Joker: **I won't lie, your review made me cringe, lolirl. I laughed after reading it though, I was like: Interesting perspective. Then my friend read it and she laughed. It was totally a cool review, it goes in the cool review archives or something. I'll never forget it, that's for sure.

**Kokomocalifornia**: Yeah, now it's up to chapter nine, I'm slowing down though. I should write more before updating chapter five. I'll get behind if I don't. Thanks for the review! Hope this chapter is ok.

**Johanna: **I actually have a friend who has the logic that it's ok to throw CD's out the window because then people will find them and discover good music. I was like: You're insane. So I wrote that part about Dick after her, lol. He would do something like that though, he's way too nice. Nicer than me at least! Thanks for the support, I totally owe you.

**JLAfan: **Haha, you return with your many reviews. I was thinking about you while taking the bus to campus the other day. I was like: She reviews each chapter, crazy kid. It's way nice of you, I totally tried to copy you with it, and reviewed every chapter of someone' fanfiction and totally flopped. I was writing: awesome for each chapter. I feel guilty for not giving good reviews now! Gah! I need to review every chapter if I find a good fanfiction that's complete! Thanks so much, really.

**loopylouise123: **I almost found Dick too optimisitc, I almost edited a line or two, but ended up keeping them. I just hope he's not so happy he's annoying, you know? Nobody said anything, but I'm pretty sure everyone was thinking it, lolirl. They were like: "So damn happy, must stop! Writer is an idiot." Haha, oh well, it was fun nevertheless. Thanks for the support!


	5. Inadequately Unqualified

**Author's Note: **I just wanted to bring up the title of this chapter. I was going to just make it _Unqualified_, but that felt wrong 'cause you know … Batman isn't really unqualified, and neither is Dick. So then I was like: Inadequately Unqualified! So yes, I meant to write that – and it's not supposed to be Inadequately Qualified. Just so we all are clear.

"And I know it aches, how your heart, it breaks. You can only take so much. Walk on. Oh no, be strong. What you got they can't steal it. No, they can't even feel it. Walk on, and stay safe tonight. What you got they can't deny it, can't sell it or buy it. Home, you can't know where it is if you've never had one. Home, that's where I'm going. And I know it aches, how your heart, it breaks. Leave it behind, you gotta' leave it behind."

_U2 _Walk On

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Five: **_Inadequately__Unqualified _

Bruce Wayne had sped home once he had received the news. It took long enough to get across the city, and he cursed the nuisance it truly was. Dick was in _trouble_, and he had to deal with the simple and worthless problem of traffic. Yet another moment in the loner's life where he had the inkling of a wish to have some sort of great speed…

Like Clark.

Damn.

Picking up his cell phone, he felt everything reject the object. Yet, with all that was in him, he dialed the number. Biting down on his tongue as the ring sounded off in his ear, each second an hour of torture. It was a paradox that made perfect sense, and it was wrong at the wrong time.

But he _had_ to do this. He _had to_. This wasn't just any little thing, this was Dick. The kid he promised to protect. He had promised the graves of Mary and John Grayson. No matter how weak the promise had been, no matter how silent and how unspoken – he **had** made it. Not because he had wanted to, no not at the time … he had made it because he had taken their child and put him into a life of danger.

So, he had made the promise.

_Keep him safe_.

And now it was more than just that. Now he actually … he actually cared. He didn't have friends. He didn't have a soul mate. No, all he had was a butler that gave him the unjustified and unconditional love of any parent, and a little orphaned gypsy boy that was looking for that same love from _him_.

And Dickhadit. An unexpected revelation uncovered between the scattered rings.

The phone gave a click. "Bruce?" The voice was surprised, utter disbelief that Bruce Wayne was calling. "Is everything all right?"

"I have a … a favor to ask."

* * *

Dick stood before the janitor's closet, Felix and Darcy at his side. He stared at the ugly purpled colored door and wished to hell that it was a portal out of this place. He hadn't a clue what was going on, but he figured that it wasn't anything good. Mr. Ganthers had moved them out of the classroom, and then told them to stop at this door. So here the three stood, looking anywhere but at their deranged teacher. 

"Mr. Grayson and Mr. Harding …get on inside." The man gave his gun a little jolt, signaling that he was more than ready to use it.

"Wh-wh-what about m-me?" Darcy stuttered awkwardly, looking at Dick with big blue eyes. He suddenly latched his hand to the raven-haired boy's and held it tight. "I'll go with them."

"No, not you, Mr. Kent." Ganthers hissed. "Get _inside_ Grayson!"

Dick didn't move, watching Felix in the corner of his eyes open the door and walk on in without any hesitation, relieved to be getting away from their teacher. "Darcy's c-come-coming with us."

A smile of pure ill-will came from their captor. "You'd rather it be you?"

"I'd rather you let us go, sir. If you'd just talk with the people outside, maybe-."

"Maybe I should put a bullet in Felix. How does that sound? You like that idea?"

"N-no. I just think that -."

"SHUT-UP!" Henry Ganthers took Darcy's upper arm and tried to pull him away from Dick, but he was met with resistance. "Let him go, Grayson."

Darcy's free hand went to Dick's other, and held it tight. He gave a small shriek of fear and began to sob in the same way Haden had just a few minutes ago.

_Just a few minutes ago Haden was alive_. _Haden and Felix both were alive_. Dick stood a bit taller and felt his chin buckle. _Say the words, tell him that he can take you, that he can take **you** if he leaves Darcy alone. If he lets Darcy and Felix go free, he can do whatever he wants to you. Say it! Tell him! Do it! Where's the courage? Where's the stuff Bruce taught you? _

_COWARD! _

Felix was starting to whimper now too.

"Shut up, Harding, unless you _want_ to join your two other friends in the classroom!" The tall and disoriented teacher slashed his hand out and knocked Dick upside the head with the gun. "I TOLD YOU TO LET HIM GO, GRAYSON!"

Stumbling back, Dick felt his grip on Darcy loosen a bit, though the blonde was quick to keep a firm hold.

Another hit with the gun and Dick was on the floor, Darcy's hands moved away from his as the boy was jerked away. "Don't move, Kent, unless you want your two friends here dead, understand? If you do as you're told I'll let you live."

Dick felt a clammy hand snake its way around his upper arm and he was pulled into the closet with little effort. "Darc … I …" He started to sit up, feeling his world spin, but as soon as he could see Darcy the door was slammed shut, and he and Felix were locked in the small room, in complete darkness.

The sound of footsteps walking away could be heard from outside.

"What is he going to do to Darcy?!" Felix cried, as if Dick might know more then he did on the matter. "He-he said he'd let him live, th-that's good, right?"

Getting to his feet, Dick put a shaky hand against the wall and fumbled towards the door. He jerked and rattled the doorknob, but it proved to be a fruitless effort. "We have to save him. We have to … we have to get out of here."

"You think he's going to kill Darcy?"

"I don't _know_, I DON'T KNOW! But looking at his record, I'd say _yes_ … that or worse." Dick looked around the room and felt his stomach give a lurch. "Help me look for something – anything."

"Y-you're bleeding, Dick. Are you ok?"

"Just look!"

As the two pattered around, moving boxes and going through various objects, they were interrupted by an unwanted familiar noise that rang through the hall; a gun blast once, twice … and a third time. The two boys froze, and slowly moved away from the door as the sound of footsteps came down the hall.

Dick felt his body begin to shutter as the door gave a clink and was pushed open. Their teacher stood, looking in at them and shrugged his shoulders. "He didn't want to live I suppose. How about you Grayson? You want to live?"

Felix began sniffling again.

_Don't cry, Felix, he'll hurt you. _That was one of the last thoughts Dick Grayson remembered thinking there in that closet.

* * *

Useless. Worthless. Helpless. Incapable. Unable. Inept. Powerless. 

_Unqualified_. He was unqualified in every sense of the word, unqualified to take care of the people closest to him, his parents, Dick. Unqualified to save them.

Unqualified to _love_ them.

Bruce stood outside the school, ignoring the consoling and comforting words showering down upon him. Everybody cared about him, everybody worried about him, everybody touched him with small bits of kindness, looked at him as if they wanted to do more for him. Even a few parents of the other boys in the school were telling him kind things, supporting words. They didn't realize though.

They didn't realize that Clark was going to save Dick. Not him.

Unqualified.

_I don't care. Clark can get in and out, Clark can do this right – he can do this fast. He can make it happen. I can't do what he can do. Not like that. Not like **that**_

"LOOK!" A woman screamed suddenly from somewhere behind the billionaire. "Oh, LOOK!"

_Clark_.

The tall and seemingly unbreakable figure of the Man of Steel came into view, fluttering down, holding in his arms the figure of an overweight boy, making sounds of pain. Bruce easily recognized him as one of the other boys who would wait outside with Dick after the study sessions. The boy was bleeding as was laid down on a stretched with the utmost ease.

_Where's Dick_! Bruce wanted to force his way through the crowd and demand an answer from his rival. _Where was DICK!_

There was a flash, and the Superman was back in the school.

At this, Bruce did push his way forward, cutting through the crowd with a few other people – parents of the others inside. He watched as a woman and man were brought to the ambulance, crying over their child on the stretcher - crying with relief.

"Should we -." A cop whispered to his partner.

"I dunno."

The billionaire disregarded them as there was movement from the school doors. He expected to see Clark carrying somebody out – expected to see the red, yellow and blue once more.

But it wasn't Clark this time.

Dick appeared to be limping down the stairs, coming toward the crowd. A few police went to the boy, helping him down, bringing him to the medics that were more than ready to lend a helping hand.

Bruce felt frozen, watching – like he didn't want to go over and talk to his ward. For some unknown reason he was scared to go see Dick. Something was horribly wrong, he could feel it – he could see it.

_Move, you coward._

Taking the first step, Bruce fell into a pattern of heavy strides, till he came to where Dick was standing, surrounded by a variety of people, all of which let him through with ease.

Dick looked up, and once he saw who it was, once the connection was made, he broke into the most horrible sound of sobbing.

_To be continued …_

**Steelelf: **Yeah, Supes always has something of interest to bring into a Batman fanfiction. It helps that Batman hates him so much, lol. Thanks for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying it. And I don't know why, but your name seems like I know it. I'm trying to figure it out. One day, I will ... maybe, lol. Are you from TZ by chance?

**State of Matter:** I'm happy you found time too, lol. It's always nice to hear what people think. It's true, it's true. Haha. Anyhow, thanks so much for reading, and thanks also for reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter, even with the cop out of me using Supes to save the day. I do that.

**Trunksblue:** I never messaged you back, gah. I know, I totally killed our plan for the other fanfiction. I'll just use Superman again and again till people catch on and shut me down, lolirl. They'll be like: "There's a limit to how many times Superman can come in and save the day in a Batman fanfiction, you've overpassed yours by a lot." In honor of my useage (is that a word) of Superman, I made him the wallpaper of my computer. Haha. And I did figure out the cell phone thing, I think ... I wrote it into another chappie, we'll see if it even works or makes sense.

**loopylouise123:** It's over! Well, almost ... Dick still has to get passed it, but at least he's out of the school, right? Right? Hmm, lol. The next chapter is more, well, interesting. This is one of those were it's like: "Thanks for nothing." Anyhow, thanks for the review!!

**johanna:** Yeah, Ganthers is actually a character from a book I wrote a few months ago. I hated him so much I decided to use him in this fiction, it works. His name is just one of those names where you're like: Yuck. Well, it is for me, lol. That's probably 'cause I've always made him evil. Oh well. Thanks for the review.

**JLAfan:** You're really too nice, if there was a nice and considerate award at you'd get it. You review all the chapters, even if they've already been posted, and then you make me too big for my pants ... britches? Whatever, lol. Thanks so much - and YOU should write more too. Your fanfictions with Dick, Tim, and Bruce are awesome. You should post more, write more ... anything. Even just a one-shot would be good. Hint, hint? Hint, hint.

**Simone1:** Just be careful not to fall out. I've done that before. Sitting on my computer chair and then BAM! Though, it's not because I was reading an interesting story, it's just because I'm stupid and sit on the edge of my seat. Anyhow, I'm sure you didn't literally mean you were on the edge of your seat, but warnings are nice. Stay in school, don't do drugs, and thanks for the review! Thanks, thanks, thanks, lol.

**Panamint:** My sister watches that show (I think) is it the one with that guy from Little House on the Prairie? She watches that every now and then, I've yet to really see an episode or anything. LOL, you weren't supposed to read the comment about Superman, lolirl. That's cool though, I thought it'd be invisible and only Trunksblue would see it. Yes, yes, Superman saves the day. I'm a cop out when it comes to bad situations, do it in almost all my fictions. Superman gets it done fast - Batman makes it interesting. Thanks for updating Broken Glass, hope more is on the way, huh? Huh? Huh.

**Kanny:** Thanks so much! Yeah, Batman during the day isn't really something that works in Gotham (at least I don't think so). I sort of cheated on this fiction, used Clark instead. I hope that's all good, 'cause I seem to do it a lot. And, well, I don't know about Bruce and Dick moments, but I think I have one in the next chapter. I think? We'll see. You can judge me on it.

**kokomocalifornia:** I write such long comments in reply to reviews, it makes the fanfiction look twice as long. I suck, and infact, I'll update faster just because this chapter was so short. Hopefully then people won't hate me as much, right? Thanks for the review! Thanks, thanks, thanks for all the reviews!


	6. So Carry Me

**Authors Note: **I dedicate the conversation between Superman and Batman to Megan, aka, Trunksblue. Haha. She, uh, she MADE me include Superman, I swear. Ok, not really. Thanks for laughing with me about the strange parts of my fanfiction SON, lolirl.

Also thanks to Sara, who inspired my cliffhangers because of the stories she writes and sends my way.

"Do I want shelter from the rain or the rain to wash me away?"

**Jars** **of** **Clay** _I Need You_

_**Maybe**__**Today**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Six: **_So, Carry Me_

The ride to the hospital was in utter and total, unwanted but inescapable silence. A medical assistant in the back kept checking Dick's face, bandaging the boy where he was obviously hurt, and asking if there was any pain. The boy said his elbow hurt him, and so that was taken care of. Nothing broken, just bad bruising the medic said. In fact the worst of the damage was to the boy's face, where it appeared he had been struck over and over again, and from the looks of it – with the gun. Gashes, swelling – the works.

Bruce felt like a worthless idiot sitting in the back, floundering awkwardly when he should be strong. All the socialite could do was to listen to the siren wailing overhead. There was no emergency here, nothing that needed to be attended to right away, no real cause for the sirens. No, this was just an utterly horrible situation that had everyone wishing they could do something to help. But nobody could do anything now.

Bruce kept his eyes averted, only once or twice bothering to look at Dick. Each time he found the boy staring upward, looking washed-out. They had Dick on a stretcher for no apparent reason. No complaint was made though, he lay there, staring up at the ceiling of the ambulance, and hardly ever sparing a glance for anywhere else.

The trip took less than fifteen minutes and when they arrived everything seemed to go into a time warp of sorts. There were detectives, some of which tried to talk with Dick but Bruce told them as kindly as he could to back off, that Dick wasn't up to _talking_ at the moment. Though, as soon as he had made his declaration, Dick decided to speak up.

"I don't really remember what happened. We were waiting for Mr. Ganthers, and he came in all crazy." He had muttered, and slowly and spiritlessly relayed the situation up until he and Greg had heard the three gun shots from the janitor's closet. "I don't remember what happened after that."

"Well." The detective who had announced he was Detective Lucero, looked at Bruce, as if the billionaire would be able to offer the lost information. "Do you remember the ambulance?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember coming out of the school."

Dick nodded.

"Well, Dick, when does your memory start up again?" They were trying to be as polite as they could about this whole situation. They were treading lightly, which Bruce was thankful for. Though, it didn't stop him from hating them for antagonizing the eleven-year-old beside him any less. "What was the next thing you remember? Did you wake up somewhere? Something like that?"

"I don't know."

"Ok, ok. Well, do you remember how you got away?"

Raising his dark blue eyes to meet the detective's own, Dick shook his head and shrugged. He was slouched as it was, hands clutched and hanging between his knees, looking as dejected as the night the young gypsy had lost his parents.

"So you don't remember anything that happened between the time you heard the three shots and the time you walked out of the school?"

Bruce decided to step in then, enough was enough. If Dick didn't want to talk, then they sure as hell weren't going to force him to. And while his main concern was for the boy sitting beside him, a small twinge in the back of his mind _wanted_ the questions and answers to stop for his own personal reasons. He didn't _want_ to know what else had happened, though oxymoronically, he did. Bruce _wanted_ to know so he could end Ganthers in the proper and appropriate manner. "Perhaps the other boy knows more?"

Turning to face Bruce, Lucero gave a short series of nods. "He's been wounded, and currently isn't up to answering questions seeing as he had to go into surgery right away. Apparently during the time that Dick can't remember, Felix Harding was shot in the leg."

Dick didn't seem to care about what had just been said. He kept his eyes turned away from everyone.

"Thank you, Dick, you've been a great help." Lucero smiled, bending down a bit and offering his hand. "Thank you again and again. You were very brave."

Dick didn't return the hand offered.

* * *

"Bruce, we need to talk." 

Bruce lifted his head at the voice. He _knew_ that voice. Just a few feet down the hall, Clark Kent stood, towering above most others, and looking as normal as he could manage. The thick glasses were on, making him look geekier then anything – and his hair was slicked back in an awkward way. Though, no matter how much he messed with his clothes, his hair – no matter what he did, there was still that obvious kindness.

And maybe that's why Bruce didn't like him.

"Then talk." The billionaire growled. He took in a deep breath, realizing what an ass he was being. He gave his head a little shake, tossing his hand at Clark. "Forget I said that. What do you want to talk about?"

"Not here, Bruce, not here. I don't think this is the place. I know you don't want to leave Dick, but … we really need to talk about something."

As if cueing the perfect arrival, Dick turned down the hall and walked towards the two. His eyes worked from Bruce and slowly traced to land on Clark's figure, and there was the first sign of an emotion since the eleven-year-old had walked out of the school. He looked terrified. "What – what are you doing here?"

"What are you doing walking about?" Clark seemed twice as surprised as Dick about the matter. He looked at Bruce with a frown. "Shouldn't he be – I don't know, somewhere?"

"We were headed home."

"You were going home?"

"Yes. Alfred's on his way as we speak." It was Bruce's turn to look confused. "What?"

Clark held up a hand to Bruce, and turned, facing Dick with a look of grave concern. "Where were you just now?"

Silence.

"Damnit Clark, what's your problem?" Bruce snapped, not sure why he was getting so mad at the Man of Steel for asking a simple question. He couldn't deny he was curious as to the intentions. Dick hadn't been gone too long - said he had to go to the bathroom, and went. It had only been a few minutes. What exactly was Clark getting at? Bruce wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"We need to talk, Bruce."

Dick oddly enough spoke up then. He gave his head a little shake and reached out, taking a handful of Bruce's jacket. "But we were going home." The child shook his head a little more, his blue eyes pleading. "I wanna' go _home_."

Clark stared at Dick for a few seconds and then looked back at the billionaire. He said nothing about the boy's words, but kept looking at Bruce as if waiting for _him_ to do something about it. After all, who else was going to?

"We'll be right back. You can wait a few minutes here for us."

"No. _Don't leave me_."

"Ok, ok … you can come with if you like." Bruce wasn't sure how true that promise was, glancing up at Clark he didn't see any affirmation or confirmation. "Clark?"

"No, Bruce! _Don't_." And then, all the sudden, the eleven-year-old fell to his knees, gagging and holding his gut. For a few seconds nothing happened other than dry-heaves, startling and drawing everyone's attention, and then Dick threw up. A few tears were starting to trace down his cheeks, hitting a few gashes and causing them to sting. Bruce couldn't go with Clark, he _couldn't_. He couldn't. ahe couldn't because then Clark would tell him, tell him everything.

"Dick?" Bruce questioned, almost demanded, kneeling beside the boy.

He threw up again; unable to stop his gut from spasms, shaking his head was about all he could accomplish.

"If you can't clam down, Dick, we're going to have to get a doctor. Can you look at me?" He was relieved to see the gypsy meet his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I need to go home."

Bruce wasn't an idiot. He could deduce that Dick wasn't just throwing up from a sudden attack of the stomach flu. No, Dick didn't want him to go talk with Clark, for whatever reason there might be … and there could be hundreds. Clark had saved him, and probably knew something that Dick didn't want anyone to know. So, now it was a battle between giving into the eleven-year-old or going to find out what had really happened to him. Clearing his throat, Bruce managed to make his decision. "Dick, I need to go talk with Clark. You can come with, or you can stay here."

Dick chocked a bit on a sob, shaking his head and now clutching some of Bruce's pant leg. He put his head against the man's shin and began to sob then and there. Simply sitting and sobbing was more then enough to gather a small crowd of onlookers trying their best to act like they weren't watching, but it was apparent everyone was.

A sight to be seen.

Bruce wasn't embarrassed by the outburst, but he didn't enjoy it. Knowing better than to get upset or angry about the matter, considering the situation Dick had just come from, he took in a slow breath. This was becoming more worrisome. Bruce had feared what Clark wanted to say, but now it was trepidation – a dread to hear what Clark had to tell him. For Dick to be acting _this_ way about it, then there couldn't be anything easy to hear. But that was part of the problem. Now he had to know what information Clark had. He had to know what had happened to Dick, to the kid he swore to look after. Sighting a two nurses watching, Bruce signaled a hand in one's direction. "Could you maybe offer a hand?"

The nurse nodded and stepped timidly forward. "Of course?"

"No! _No_!" Dick shook his head, giving Bruce a heartbreaking look that stalled the man for a few seconds. "Don't, no, _don't_!"

"Just for a few seconds, Dick." Bruce promised. He started to move away from the boy, motioning for Clark to follow, when Dick got up and ran after him. "Dick, go wait with the nurse, ok? _Please_."

"Hi, Dick. My name is Mark Willimas." The nurse hesitantly offered. He reached out and took the boy's shoulder, trying his best to smile. It soon fell when Dick wrenched out of his grasp and grabbed back at Bruce, managing to catch hold of his guardian's arm. Bruce pried the boy away again and exhaled when Dick simply reattached.

"Dick, listen to me, ok? Clark and I need to talk. I _need_ to hear what Clark is going to tell me. I _need_ to."

"Nothing! He doesn't need to tell you _anything_! Why c-can't we just go _home_. I want to go home now!"

"I know you don't want me to know, but I _need_ to. I promise, nothing bad will happen if you go with the nurse. It'll only be a minute, and then I'll come back. _A_ _minute_." Bruce pulled away again. "Dick?"

Dick shook his head, gasping for air between sobs. "You can't know! You cuh-can't!"

Nodding to the nurse, Bruce moved away. Mark timidly grasped Dick's arm, wishing that he hadn't been around to be assigned this mission. It wasn't going to be easy – holding back a sobbing kid that had just gone through something so emotionally distressing that he was throwing up. Glancing back at the nurse that had been with him, he motioned for her to help. She moved to stand beside Dick and started to talk to him, a futile attempt to calm him down.

"He'll be back in a few moments, sweetie." She cooed.

"**NO!**" A scream, bloody murder, Dick struggled against the hand's holding him back. Seeing that he wasn't going to be thwart Bruce into not going with Clark, the eleven-year-old began another reel of dry heaves, falling to his knees. Though, even that didn't detour the billionaire walking away from him. "BRUCE!" His mentor had gone away with Clark, and would soon hear what Dick didn't want him to hear. "BRUCE!"

The nurse was as his side, putting her arms around him, feeling her own heart break at the sight. The whole hospital had heard about the attack at the school, and they all could easily recognize who Bruce Wayne was. "He'll be back, you're ok."

It was a chance to hide away, and Dick took it. He buried his face in his hands and hid on her shoulder, sobbing away and away. "Bruce! Bruce! Bruce!" He didn't stop calling out the name.

* * *

"This had better be good." Bruce growled as they turned the corner, leaving Dick. He could still hear the cries and even occasional screams, each one telling him to go back and bring Dick home. _What was he doing?_ For a moment he stopped and began to turn when Clark gave him a look. 

"You need to hear this, Bruce."

"Why is he crying like that? He doesn't cry like that." Taking the lead, Bruce led them out of the hospital and made the way through the parking lot. "Is this fine?"

"I suppose?"

Bruce just stared at him, waiting for a real answer.

"It's fine. Ok. I just wanted to tell you what I saw. I figure you don't really know what happened in there. I didn't assume Dick would, I didn't think he would … I, um, that he would tell you right away. But you should know." Clark ran a hand down his face, glancing at the concrete below his feet for a few seconds. He didn't know how to say what he wanted to. There wasn't any way he could just say it easy like – no, this was going to be hard no matter how he did it.

"Clark. _Hurry_."

"Well, I found the one kid, Greg, first. He was pretty scared, stuck in a janitor's closet with a hurt leg and all, who wouldn't be at his age?" How like Clark that was, learning and remembering the name of a boy he rescued, a boy that he probably would never see again. "He told me that I needed to save his friend, Dick – and that the teacher took him and was going to kill him. So, naturally I told Greg to wait and went to go find Dick. He wasn't hard to find, actually – just a few classrooms down the hall. I got there as fast as I could Bruce, you know that. I just, I just wish I could have gotten there faster. I know you were counting on me."

Bruce said nothing, his arms crossed across his chest like a shield. He held his head up, attempting to stare down at Clark, which was virtually impossible considering the difference in height. Though, he took no notice, simply listening to the muttering and stuttering as the story unfolded slowly and painfully.

A sigh and Clark shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them, staring directly at Bruce – man to man. "I saw before I got in the room, heard before I got in the room. That man … that man was hitting Dick across the face, yelling at him. He was telling him to – to stop s-struggling, that Dick should do as he was told. He was, um, he was touching him. I don't think he got very far, Bruce."

Bruce gave a gasp, turning away at the realization that he hadn't been breathing. Using a hand to steady himself against the car, the unmasked Dark Knight nodded, glaring across the lot. "_What's that _**mean**_ Clark_?"

"It means that I don't think he got far. I know that doesn't mean much to you, considering it's not fact … but it's what I think." Silence for a few seconds and Clark took a tentative step forward, placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I-."

"Don't touch me, Clark." Without even so much as a thank you, Bruce turned and went right back into the hospital. To his utter shock, Dick was still calling out for him. Not near as loud, just a simple and occasional mutter between the tears, but he was _still_ at it. Kneeling down, Bruce frowned deeply, looking between the two nurses who had stayed loyal to the boy. "Dick? I'm back."

Dick didn't leave the nurse's shoulder. He knew Bruce knew the awful truth now. There was no going back. There was no chance that he could ever hide it.

_To be continued …_

**kokomocalifornia:** Why can't I spell california, I don't know if I even spelled it right that time, gah. Oh well, you know what I mean when I attempt to spell it. Thanks for the review, and thanks for being cool about the Superman ordeal. Apparently people didn't hate it as much as I thought they would, lol.

**Kanny: **The Bruce and Dick moment is totally for you, lol, every sentance. Infact, we'll say you wrote it, that's how much I'll dedicate it to you, lol. Yeah, I was hoping to convey some sort of love expressed by calling Clark, I just didn't get it out too well. At least you got it, haha. I bet others did too, I just wasn't sure how well I managed. Oh well, lol. And man, I'm dragging my feet with this fiction, I need to get back and pumped with it. I'm on chapter nine, and slowing down - or well, ten, with nothing written for ten. I must finish before summer starts, otherwise it's hopeless. Keep your fingers crossed, haha. I don't want a two month break, that'd suck. And you write fictions?! What's your penname? I want to see this!!

**Steelelf: **TZ is toonzone - some place I used to hang and pretend to be cool when I was like, 13 years old. LOLIRL, wow, time passes. Anyhow - I'll figure out how the heck I recognize your penname, maybe somebody else has it or something, or maybe I just dreampt it once. I dunno. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I'm glad you're enjoying it and the cliff hanger. That was inspired by a friend who is awesome with cliff hangers. Thanks so much!

**StateofMatter: **Good point, I didn't think anyone would really catch that Bruce caring enough to call Superman, but you and kokomocalifornia both mentioned it. I'm pleased, lol. I didn't even really catch it until I was reading it through again, I was like: "Ha, that's why he called Superman - not cause it'll make the fiction easier to write." This is true. And honestly, I hope Bruce can help Dick too, when Dick gets hurt he ususally goes all Bat-ah-la-mode, or something. I noticed that in the comics, and now I'm noticing it in my fiction in later chapters. I really hope Bruce helps, lolirl. Great news, huh? Thanks so much!

**loppylouise123**: never sent me any email saying when I got a review, it made me mad. I wanted to tell someone, so you get to hear the news. Thank you for listening, lol. Yeah, Superman's ok I guess - sometimes. I'm learning to like him a little more with time. My brother adores him, just because of the movie that came out. The movie, bleh. Oh well, in order to force a love of Superman onto myself I've given my computer a Superman wallpaper. It isn't really working, but I'll give it another week.

**Johanna**: I loved writing the part about Bruce being a coward, I don't know why. I'm glad you mentioned it. It was fun looking in the thesouritouslible or however you spell it, finding all the words. It was good fun, lol. Thanks for reviewing, and I like your name. I named my American girl doll, back in the day, Johanna when I went to go play with my friends. She was actually Kirstien, but when she hung with the other dolls, she was Johanna.


	7. Windows Down

**Authors Note:** Yeah, so the title has no correlation to the chapter whatsoever. You think of something better and I'll use it, lol. Also, thanks to Sara for inspiring this idea. Thanks so much to everyone who reviews and reads.

"You gotta' keep holding on. When push comes to shove you taste what you're made of. You might bend till you break, 'cause it's all you can take. On your knees you look up, decide you've had enough. You get mad, you get strong, wipe your hands, shape it off, then you stand. Every time you get up and get back in the race, one more small piece of you starts to fall into place."

_Rascal Flatts _**Stand**

_**Maybe Today**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Seven: **_Windows Down_

Dick felt a hand rest on his shoulder and he froze momentarily in his relentless reign of tears. For a few seconds he wasn't sure what to do. There was the option of shaping up and being brave, there was the option of running, there was the option of turning to Bruce for comfort, but despite the many choices, Dick stayed put. He returned to his tears and clung all the more to the strange woman that was offering him her shoulder. She didn't seem to mind him being there. In fact she seemed welcoming – saying soft words, occasionally running her hand through his hair. He didn't know her and he probably wouldn't ever see her again, and that thought did a lot to keep him put. If she did judge him what did it matter? So long as she was pretending that he was ok to be crying like this.

"Dick?" Bruce called out again to him, his hand smoothing across the boy's back awkwardly. A poor attempt to comfort in Bruce's mind, but it did more than he thought it did. A simple touch and Dick's tears grew immensely. The billionaire drew away, thinking he had done wrong.

The nurse was looking at him now, her expression was tense, sorrow built into every line of her face. All those who had the guts to stare directly at the scene, even those who pretended to not notice – they all wore the similar face. And they didn't even know the truth. All they could see was a sobbing boy, and perhaps knew the dregs of the story. They didn't know though, they didn't know what Bruce knew. Their sympathetic sorrow was nothing compared to what he was feeling.

"It's ok, Dick. We're ok." Bruce felt his stomach turn and tighten, sickening at the very thought. Why did this have to happen to _them_? Why couldn't it have happened to someone else, _anyone_ else? While that thought was inviting, the unmasked Dark Knight knew better than wish too hard on it. It was wrong, evil – cruel to wish this sort of thing on anyone.

_But why Dick_?

He stood up. Looking down at the crying child and wondering what could be done. What could he do? In a situation like this, what good was he, how much did Dick actually want him to try and be a comfort? He could hear Alfred telling him to do something and as much as Bruce wanted to, he was frozen. "Dick?" He called out in a coarse voice, sounding as helpless as he felt. One more time, he could try one more time to be of some sort of comfort. Kneeling back down and slowly stretching out his hand, Bruce laid it on the back of Dick's head, running it down to rest on his neck. "We're ok, Dick."

At this Dick moved away from the nurse's shoulder, covering his face securely with his hands and shaking his head. He was scarlet, red from an undeserved embarrassment and shame. Gasping a bit, Dick managed to control the tears a bit, but within seconds of their halt they returned, and he twisted around to his guardian. Plunging himself at the man, he allowed himself to be immersed once more, hidden by somebody stronger then he was.

"Let's go home."

Sleep probably wouldn't have been an option if it hadn't been for some Lunesta Alfred gave to Dick when the boy crawled into the car. It took two of the 3mgs of the medication before the boy finally was able to subside out of his crying and fall out of sorts, muttering occasionally until he could no longer stay awake.

Bruce was thankful for that much. It was a chance for the boy to escape the real world, and a chance for the socialite to explain the situation to Alfred, every painful bit of it. As strong as Bruce Wayne was, Alfred Pennyworth was ten times as solid it seemed. The butler was his rock, all he had to lean on at times like these, and again and again he realized his dependency on the older man.

"What are we going to do?" Bruce pleaded, wanting an answer – needing that answer.

For a few moments Alfred said nothing and then gave a short nod. "Live, Master Bruce."

It wasn't what Bruce had wanted to hear. He had been hoping for some explicit instructions on how to right the wrong done, turn things around, make Dick forget, make things all better. Years of fighting the war for Gotham, and Bruce wanted the easy way out – thought there might be one. Hoped there would be.

Alfred's words told him otherwise, reminded him of how things really were and made him fell a new hate for mankind, and above all – a hate for Henry Ganthers. Pushing his fist into this forehead, resting like that for a few moments, Bruce clenched his teeth, grinding them together in rage. He had wished the man who killed his parents would die, he had wished it of the Joker, and now he wished it of a teacher. "I'd kill him if I could, Alfred. I want to kill him."

Silence.

"But I can't."

"No."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Alfred glanced through the rearview mirror, and it was clear he was in equal pain to the man in the backseat. "No." He repeated. "Don't be sorry, Master Bruce."

"I made him go to the help session with that man, Alfred. _I_ made him, he didn't want to go – I forced it on him." Bruce placed a hand against his mouth and chocked on the feelings he was experiencing. "This is my fault."

"No."

A sad frown and downcast eyes reflected in the window as Bruce stared at himself in the glass, ignoring cars passing and lights fluttering past. A tremble of his chin caught his attention and he bit down on his tongue, _hard_, bringing the short stutter to a sudden halt. "I won't blame him if he hates me."

"It's not your fault anymore than it is mine, or the school cooperation, or friends of the afflicted teacher, or of the Gotham police, it isn't your error anymore than anyone else's and nobody will hold you culpable for what occurred today. Master Bruce – you've done nothing to deserve whatever sort of guilt you might be trying to place on yourself. Not a thing."

Bruce knew better than to fight that, Alfred wouldn't ever give up defending him, even if he was wrong. What was the use of arguing it? The rest of the drive to the manor was in almost complete silence; occasionally Alfred hummed a familiar tune that Bruce recognized as the butler being worried. It was the hum that said things were wrong, but tried to console the situation.

A rain started as they pulled to a stop. Bruce collected Dick's limp form and followed Alfred into the house, slipping into the home and away from the dark skies and rain. He waited as Alfred closed and latched the door. "What should I do with him?"

A look as Alfred slowly removed his coat, brushing the damp water off his cheeks. "He's asleep, Master Bruce."

"Ok." Bruce turned and started up the stairs, feeling stupid for asking the question. He couldn't help but have some trepidation holding the ninety some pounds in his arms. The billionaire made his way to the child's bedroom and pushed the door open with his shoulder, and then walked on in. He was thankful to see Alfred follow in, and placed Dick gently on the bed. "I'm … going to see." He didn't really make sense of the sentence, just looked at Alfred, expecting the butler to understand.

"_Tonight_?"

A spiel on how Gotham couldn't protect herself alone seemed dumb, pointless. Bruce just wanted to get away, find out what the law planned to do about Henry Ganthers – and maybe take out some of his anger on anyone stupid enough to get in his way. Sinking his teeth into his lower lip Bruce nodded a strong nod. "I'll be back."

"Master Bruce, you cannot mean to _leave_."

Bruce ignored the question, ignored the look he was getting, and walked on out of the room. He headed down the flight of stairs and into the Batcave, thankful for it for the first time in a long time.

* * *

"Thank god that's over."

Batman slipped into the dark room and pressed his body against the wall, breathing as softly as he could manage as he attempted to hear what was being said on the other side. Commissioner Jim Gordon was talking to someone, and with time, Bruce easily recognized it as Slam Bradley.

"Detective Lucero got a statement from both kids, got a team at the school, combing through the place. Seems like the guy went crazy, we have some statements from the hospital. Damn, won't the rain ever stop?"

Jim had to be smoking, the long pauses between moments, and the fact that he didn't speak as much as he might have clued the Dark Knight in. "Just want to go home for the night. It's been a long day."

"Hell yeah."

The two talked on things such as weather, vacations needed, foods that were appetizing, but they didn't steer back to their original conversation. Figuring the use of sitting there listening was spent, Batman moved back towards the window, crawling out and making his way across the building once again. A team was at the school – he could find out more there.

A shout from below caught his attention.

"Hey, Lucero! You bring that coffee for _me_?!" A man was looking out his window a few stories up, smiling down at the detective running into the building, out of the rain. "Not so much. Probably going to drink both of them, the bastard."

There was laughter from inside, followed by an agreement. "The jackass. Can't blame him …" The window shut and the Dark Knight was quick to make his way to the ledge. He listened to the conversation in the room. "Heading that school hostage case, whatever the hell. At least he got the easy way out."

"Heard about that."

"Everybody heard about that."

"Nobody should have. I can't imagine going out like that. If it were me, I'd take pills or something. No suffering that much."

"The bastard deserved it."

"I'm just saying."

"Me too."

* * *

Dick Grayson's sleep was short lived, quick to come to and end within just a few hours. He awoke in the dark room, shivering from a dream he didn't remember. For a few moments he did nothing but lay there, and then as if the realization just washed over him, he flung his hands over his eyes and squeezed them shut tightly, grinding his teeth as he tried to rid himself of the everlasting memory.

Incapable to conquer the shadows on replay in his mind, Dick threw off the covers and made a dash for the bathroom, gasping as he dropped to his knees and throwing up. He sat there, his red face a mix from shame, embarrassment, and the sickly feeling he was experiencing. Gagging again, the eleven-year-old crawled to the sink, washing his mouth out and spitting up there.

The amount of time Dick spent at that sink, doubled over, his cheek pressed against the cool tile, was unknown. He was unsure if he faded into sleep, all he knew was that the memories wouldn't go away, of all the horrible things that had happened, how Ganthers had hurt him – how Ganthers had _killed_ his friends.

Darcy, Greg, Haden … they were all dead now.

How their parents must feel now.

Dick blinked his tired eyes, weary and heavy. Slowly dropping to the floor he began to clean up the mess he had made, holding back the sobs, feeling them exploding in the depths of his chest. It was a dull pain.

He could see Haden pleading to go home and he could see Darcy clinging to him, looking to _him_ to save his life. Dick hadn't been able to do anything but fuck everything up. And Bruce … Bruce had trained him for situations like this for years now. He should have known. He should have been able to_ do_ _**something**_.

Once more Dick Grayson was the one left alive.

* * *

"Mmhmm?" Bruce lifted his head up at the sound of the clink above, signaling something was coming down into the cave via the clock. Brushing a hand across his face, the billionaire squinted as light flooded down the staircase, breaking the dark momentarily. "Alfred?"

To his surprise Dick was descending the flight of stairs, looking a bit hesitant. He didn't say anything as he came to the main floor and walked towards the changing rooms, glancing occasionally at Bruce who was staring at him.

"Dick?"

"Yessir?"

The man paused and then gave a small nod. "Where are you going?"

"…M-morning workout?"

"Morning work -." A glance at the red numbers in the corner of the Batcomputer brought the unmasked Dark Knight up-to-date. "Oh."

Dick didn't say anything and started once more for the changing vaults.

"Not today, Dick." Bruce felt guilty for saying those words, but he couldn't bear to go through the workout this morning. Not after something like yesterday, not after _that_. He turned back the computer screen and momentarily shut his eyes, mentally smacking himself for his bad and inexperienced behavior.

"…Ok." Dick paused and then cleared his throat. "New case?"

"I think Alfred will be expecting you for breakfast shortly. I'll meet you up there, ok?" Bruce began to shut down the computer without bothering to turn and face the boy.

"Ok."

But Bruce didn't come up for Breakfast. Alfred made for light conversation, but it did little to deter Dick from thinking about the man's absence, or his dismissal of the boy. So, when Alfred finally did excuse the eleven-year-old from the table, Dick grabbed his windbreaker and started for the outdoors, happy to get out of the house and away from everything. Outside seemed like a good idea. Outside he could hide away from everything.

And so, sitting on a swing and occasionally moving his feet for a small amount of rocking, Dick thought over things. The weather was getting warmer and warmer with the passing of time, and the grass was slowly gaining its green back. Soon, in a few weeks, leaves would even start to show, and flowers. In just a few more weeks everything would start getting better, so why couldn't Dick Grayson do the same? He thought until finally he came to a decision that would take care of the problems, it would make things better – it would make things ok. Or, at least a little.

Dick began to practice saying the words aloud, making them sound like he meant them, making them sound believable. He could do it, he could say them – make them all believe him. Even Bruce?

Even Bruce.

"I don't remember."

* * *

Close to two hours later, when Dick finally made his way back up the Mansion, he found Bruce walking around outside, flopping his hands about, as if practicing something. The boy suppressed the urge to sneak past and simply approached the man, doing his best to look fine. "What are you doing?" His voice wasn't very strong, but it was better than he had imagined it would be.

Bruce gave a start and turned to look at Dick and slowly shook his head. "I, uh, I dunno … looking for you?"

"I was in the woods."

"Oh. I just came out. Alfred says you've been gone for a long time now, he was – he was worried."

"Sorry." Dick answered, feeling himself blush. He shrugged his shoulders and started to walk towards the doors, using long strides. "I'll tell him you found me."

"…Oh, ok …" Bruce sighed and shook his head. Alfred would kill him if he didn't do this. "Dick, wait – come here, we should talk."

"Talk?"

"Yeah, talk. You have a minute?"

Dick didn't want to talk right now. He wasn't ready to _talk_. And more surprisingly, he hadn't expected Bruce to _want_ to talk about anything. The man looked like he was going to be sick, and Dick shared the feeling. "About – about what?"

"About yesterday."

"What about yesterday?"

Bruce gave him a look.

"You mean about Mr. Ganther's going crazy?"

Another look and Bruce nodded slowly. "Yes."

"What about it?" Dick sunk into a stair, sitting on it and looking at his guardian with an innocent expression. He dug his fingertips into the cement step, wishing he could escape to his room. "I already told you everything I know."

"…Well, Dick, if you ever want to talk about it – or, you know, stuff." Bruce paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "Alfred and I are, you know, we're around and stuff."

"And stuff?" Dick didn't smile. "Ok. I guess this means I won't have to go to after school sessions anymore, huh?" He didn't want to make the joke. He didn't want to make the joke! "I guess you'll have to get me a tutor."

Bruce didn't look amused. Rather, he looked a bit shocked.

"I gotta' go finish my homework, can I go?"

"Homework?"

Dick nodded. "Homework."

"Dick … I was, I was – Alfred and I were thinking you should take a break from school for a little while. Maybe go back to Alfred's lessons for a bit of time. I don't think school is a very good idea right, right now."

"Well, why not? I mean, I understand your concern, but it's not like anything _horrible_ happened yesterday. Nobody was really _hurt_." _Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar! Don't you lie about Haden and Darcy, don't you lie about Greg! Don't you lie about that, not about that! _"I don't see why I have to stop going to school just 'cause a teacher goes a bit crazy."

Bruce was looking at the boy in disbelief.

"What's the matter?" Dick felt himself blushing under the pressure. These lies were getting hard to handle, and Dick wondered if Bruce knew he was lying about not remembering. After all, he was the World's Greatest Detective. How could he _not_ know? "I'm s-sorry."

"You do remember what happened yesterday, right?"

Dick bowed his head, not up to answering the directly at the moment. He felt his knees buckling and his hands trembling as he sat there, blushing a shade of scarlet.

"Maybe you should go to your room." Bruce didn't mean to sound upset, angry, or disappointed. He was simply at a loss for what else to do in this situation, giving an order seemed the only option there was to make him appear less disoriented then he honestly was.

Dick took the chance and started up the stairs, happy for the chance to get away.

_To be continued …_


	8. Make a Hole, Crawl Through

Thanks to Sara for inspiring this, and starting my obsession with Dick Grayson, lol. I always liked him, but she's the one who started me on writing fanfictions concerning him. Thanks, girl.

**Disclaimer**: DC owns everything here ('Cept for the Jars of Clay song, three guesses who owns that.), even the stuff I made up. I figure it's all theirs, fair and square. Bob Kane owns it too, he's awesome like that.

"It's a lot like giving up. If the wind should shake this house apart, the cradle hits the ground with a broken heart. Will we say we never knew a thing while we pray to the god of the lesser things? Is there grace for a wayward heart? Ash to ash and dust to dust, steel on steel or rain to rust."

_Jars of Clay_ **Lesser Things**

_**Maybe Today**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Eight: **Two Halves Make a Hole, Crawl Through

Three days had passed since Dick's blantant lie, and not much was broached on the matter. Bruce seemed more distant then ever, and Alfred appeared more concerned then before. He was always asking Dick what he was doing, wanting to talk, suggesting having a friend over. As for the eleven-year-old himself, Dick was at a loss and in a lie.

A _big_ lie.

He had stolen some Lunesta and Ambien from under Bruce's sink, from the usual stash, and hid them securely under his bed, slid beneath the support boards there. They helped him escape the insomnia that was option number one. And Dick wasn't much up for that – not yet at least, thank you.

So he used the pills, every night after one of many baths that had been added to his schedule. Some nights he only needed one pill, others – it took a few more. Just as long as Dick could sleep through the nights, he didn't care what it took.

Robin duty had been shut down temporarily, as well as training. Bruce was always making excuses, or having to be some where. Dick took that with a grain of salt; at least, he tried to.

Bruce was ashamed, embarrassed.

And Dick didn't blame him. It was ok if Bruce felt that way. It was all ok.

The young gypsy did what he could to forget what happened, tried to actually lapse his life into his lie. Though, try as he might, he couldn't smile, and he couldn't shake the unwanted feelings and memories that kept returning to him again and again.

"Master Richard?" Alfred's voice called through the bathroom door, which was strange in and of itself. The butler hardly ever bothered Dick when the boy was in here, in fact – this had to be the first time in _years_. Though, a small knock on the door brought the situation to reality within seconds.

Dick turned off the water from the shower, blinking as he rubbed a damp hand across his face, getting the soap out of his eyes. "Alfred?"

"Dinner, Master Dick."

Dinner? Dick ran his tongue across his upper lip, tasting the shower water and not liking what he had heard. Dinner this early? Well, ok. "Alright, Alfred."

Alfred listened as the water was once more turned back on, and headed out of the room, going down the stairs and walking to Bruce Wayne's study. It was time he voiced his mounting concerns. Pushing open the door, he found his employer, and the closest thing to a son he had, napping on the desk. "Master Bruce?"

Bruce gave a jump and jerked his head up, looking at Alfred and then shaking his head. "I was asleep?"

"I just came from Richard's room."

Silence, but a look.

"He's showering again."

"Again?" Bruce made a face, his head tilting slightly at the words. "He took one earlier?"

"This is his second today, and no doubt – he'll be taking one again tonight before bed, per his usual schedule."

Bruce was looking away, staring at a window, looking out beyond the glass that confined him in the room. He wasn't spacing out, no – he was listening to what was being said with great earnest. It was just – it was just that he felt the guilt whelm up in his chest, and his head start to hurt, his whole body seemed to go numb with guilt, and the world seemed to grow so much larger and more impossible. Looking out the window, he wished he could just break the reason for Dick's strange new behavior. Break Ganthers.

_In half_.

He'd see what he saw, take the saw and saw Ganthers' in half. Two halves would make a hole – and Bruce would crawl out of this trouble. He'd make things better.

"He says he doesn't remember, and while I do believe him – I can't help but believe that perhaps a visit with someone who is … professionally trained … might be of use. He isn't happy. He isn't happy at all." Alfred waited patiently for Bruce to look back his way and quirked an eyebrow in waiting when the billionaire finally did.

"Yeah, good idea." He turned his vision back to the glass window, not seeing what lay beyond. "Good idea."

"Then I'll expect you to tell him by the end of the week."

"Me?" This tore Bruce away from the window to look, in shock, at the butler. "_Me_? Why should I tell him?"

A look was more then enough to make the billionaire rethink what he had said.

"It's just that – you're so much better with him."

Alfred paced towards the desk and looked straight down at the man. Narrowing his eyes, the butler made sure to have Bruce looking at him before he said anything. "Master Bruce, he might appear to get along wondrously with myself, and yes – we _talk_ more than you and he do. There is just one minor detail you're excluding from your … conclusion."

Bruce looked away in a sort of shame.

"He idolizes you."

* * *

"How was your day?" The question was asked almost every night, like it was all he could think of, like he needed that introduction to actually start a conversation. Bruce kept his eyes on Dick as the boy pretended to drink his water. Why, Bruce wasn't sure. The eleven-year-old held the cup to his mouth and acted like he was drinking even though the water was going _nowhere_. Oh well, he could pretend he didn't notice.

Dick set the cup down after a few seconds and shrugged his shoulder in the usual response of the last few days. "Good."

"Anything interesting happen?"

He shook his head, going a bit ridged at the question. Couldn't they just _not_ talk? Though, Dick wanted to talk. He wanted to laugh and joke, have a casual conversation with his guardian – like they use to. Maybe talk about a case, or about school. But what could the talk about now? There wasn't anything, because Dick didn't _do_ anything now.

* * *

"Mom says I don't have to go back to school." Felix's voice was soft, small, and hidden at times. He had called, to Dick's surprise, wanting to talk because he was bored. "She said you aren't going back either."

"No." Dick managed, clutching the phone and looking about to see if anyone was around. Alfred knew about the call, but left as soon as Dick had picked up. It was just him in his empty room – nobody would hear him lie. Nobody but Felix – and how would that go over? "Home school for right now."

"…Me too." Felix made a small noise and then when he spoke again he sounded a bit shaky. "Hey, Dick?"

Silence.

"Do-do you ever _dream_ about Haden and them? I mean, do you think about them? 'Cause … 'cause I do. All the time, I do."

"Felix, I –." Dick didn't finish, he let his voice fade away. This was a chance to talk with someone who truly and deeply understood what Dick was dealing with. Well, at least more than anyone else. Felix had seen it. Felix had been with _him_ … all up till Ganthers' dragged him away. "I … I don't really know."

"Do you want to come over?" It was an unexpected request.

"Come over?"

"Yeah."

"I, uh, I'll ask. Um, hold on?"

"Ok."

Dick put down the phone and took in a series of deep breaths, trying to regain himself. Thinking over how to say it, Dick finally picked the phone back up and felt himself starting to blush once more. "I can't. I don't think Bruce wants me go anywhere for some reason. Not yet at least. I don't g – I don't get it."

Felix was quiet for a few seconds and then made a noise of agreement. "My mom said that I probably shouldn't do anything either, though she said hanging out with you was ok. I guess she likes you now. She's never even met you."

"I wish I could."

"Yeah." Silence, an awkward kind of silence as if Felix had been expecting Dick to change his answer, but finally, after a few moments, he sighed. "My leg is hurting. I better go take some pain stuff. I'll talk to you later."

* * *

"Another shower, Master Richard?" Alfred had come into Dick's room after knocking and being invited in. He carried a hamper of clothes and looked at the boy with his usual concerned mask on tight.

Dick shrugged. He had been getting ready for bed when Alfred had knocked, and was just now finishing brushing his teeth. Rinsing out his mouth, he walked into his bedroom, watching as Alfred put away the clothes. "Is Bruce still home?"

"Master Bruce is … working."

"Oh, ok. That's good. I saw the signal and you know, figured he'd be gone. I just wanted to – to make sure." Dick walked over to his bed and pulled back the covers, pausing for a moment as Alfred glanced out the window, as if to see what Dick said were true.

"How is your friend?"

"Felix?"

Alfred gave a small nod.

"I dunno, he didn't talk very long. His leg hurt and he had to go." Dick crawled into the bed, wishing that the butler would leave so he could take some of the sleeping medication. After a few minutes, Alfred was done, and folded the hamper into half and smiled once more at the raven-haired boy in bed. "Sweet dreams, Master Dick. If you need anything, just ask."

Dick watched as the light flickered off and was more than thankful for the brightness pouring from the bathroom. After a few moments he slid onto the floor and crawled under the mattress, taking the Lunesta and popping a pill into his mouth.

Within half an hour he was fast asleep, tossing and turning at the occasional nightmare, and unwanted recollection. The dreams were _so_ strong at times, they seemed _so_ real. Dick was reliving things he didn't want to have to think about every again. He was there, back at the school, and Mr. Ganthers was saying things to him, and everyone was watching. Haden, Darcy, Felix, Greg, Bruce, Alfred, Leslie, his mom and dad, Roy, Wally, Donna, Garth, Clark – they we're all watching, and none of them did a _thing_. They just stared.

Stared like they didn't care about Dick, like he deserved what he was getting.

And maybe he did.

Haden, Greg, and Darcy.

He deserved it?

He deserved it.

"_You deserved it."_

"NO!" Dick shrieked, and suddenly he was awake. He was in his room. The cool breeze from the open window floated around him, mixed with it was the familiar smell of Gotham and spring, bittersweet. He gasped it in, shivering as he sat up, thinking of everyone watching him like they had been. "Oh, no – don't think bad, don't think that. Don't let me think that." He doubled over, resting his head against his legs in an awkward position as he let a few jagged tears flow. He thought about his mother and father in heaven, and them watching out for him.

They were watching out for him weren't they?

_Weren't they_?

"Moh-hah-hahmmee." Dick felt a bit of saliva running onto his blankets, touching his cheek as it swelled there. _Why wasn't anyone coming_? Where were Alfred and Bruce? Didn't they know he was up here crying? Didn't they realize he was awake from a nightmare? Why weren't they _here_?

_Because you deserved it_.

"No. I. _Don't_!" Dick declared aloud, viciously, like he meant it. He wanted to mean it. "It was _him_. It was _him_."

_Deserved it_.

Pushing the covers away and getting out of bed, Dick stumbled a bit, feeling dizzy. He made his way under his bed, pulling out another pill and swallowing it without any hesitation. "Just go back to sleep." He made his way back under the covers and wiped at his eyes, feeling the dampness of his cheeks. "Go to sleep, Dickie. You'll be ok."

* * *

Bruce got in late and all but crawled up the lengthy run of stairs towards his bedroom. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was spending a lot more time out on the roofs now-a-days. It hadn't even been a week, but his body was sore, exhausted, and he was tired through and through. Escaping at night to Gotham and by day at the office didn't do much for him. But, Bruce Wayne didn't really realize. He passed it off as catching up.

That's what he was doing – catching up.

He showered, changed, and got into bed, more then ready to fall asleep. But there lay trouble. Bruce did what he could, repositioned again and again, flipped his pillow, opened and closed the window, turned on the ceiling fan, but nothing seemed to be helping him. He kept thinking about Henry Ganthers.

Even if the man was dead, that didn't stop him from hating him and wasting hours thinking about what he might do if the man were still alive.

Finally, admitting defeat, Bruce stumbled into the bathroom, opening the cabinet and taking out the container of pills. He'd be missing work tomorrow if he took these. But right now, he didn't mind. There were only four packets of the pills left, to the billionaire's confusion. Had he really been taking so many? Swiping a drink under the facet, he returned to his bed. _Really_, he needed to stop relying on these so much.

_To be continued…_

_Thanks for all the reviews! Everyone!!_


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